


Surrender

by fluteninja38



Category: The Outsiders (1983), The Outsiders - All Media Types, The Outsiders - S. E. Hinton
Genre: Alcohol, College, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, F/M, Family, Family Issues, Friendship, Gen, Good times, Long-Distance Relationship, Original Character(s), POV Multiple, Post-Canon, School, Smoking, Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:47:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24103096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluteninja38/pseuds/fluteninja38
Summary: It's the seventies. Rachel's trying to hang on to what feels like the last of her youth. Pony's moving on from all that's happened but his past will catch up with him one of these days. Don't give yourself away. (Story formerly titled Heart and Soul)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	1. Polaroid - a prologue

My sister has long, black hair.

I always wondered where she got it from and why she decided to move to Oklahoma.

She’s only two years older than me but acts like the president of her own country. It’s like she knows everything about the world and thinks my brother and I are just some helpless little kids. Is she right? Maybe.

I was surprised when she sent us that Polaroid last summer of her with the white-haired kid. Well, apparently, he was blond but on the film his hair was snow-white. I thought he looked like an albino ferret. The photo was in color, but it may as well have been black-and-white. My sister and her black hair and her charcoal eyes and her pale skin, and that boy and his pale hair and his pale skin and pale everything. The only color was in his icy blue eyes, looking as if they’d been inked in after the fact.

He had a weird name too. He was named after a city in Texas. But it was fitting, as my sister was named after a city in France.

I wasn’t named after anything or anyone. People like to tell me I have a princess name, but princesses don’t act like I do. Actually, my brother is closest to a princess out of all of us. He’s kind and polite and stays out of your way. Me, I’m probably going to be a crackpot journalist someday. At least, that’s what I’ve been told.

I don’t know if my sister is in Oklahoma anymore. Ferret boy died in a shootout years ago. I don’t know how she felt about it. He seemed like real bad news to me, but my sister was in love. Maybe that’s why she moved out there. No, they were never dating, but that didn’t mean anything to either of them anyway. Don’t ask.

Me? Well, I’m moving to Okay-OK myself, but I actually have a reason. I’m going to be an English teacher. I’d study writing, but I don’t think it would make me a lot of money. And lord knows we all need money. I like teaching well enough and everyone says I’m a natural. We’ll see about that.

I won’t miss my high school. Colorado is pretty and all, but the worldview here is so narrow. I’m not sure Oklahoma will be any better, and I’ve got a grave fear of tornadoes, so I’m in for a hell of a ride… hopefully not literally.

Stillwater isn’t far from where my sister had been staying in Tulsa. I wonder if I'll meet some of the characters she knew from that town, but from what I've heard, the kids she hung around with likely weren't even considering education after high school. Good, hopefully I won’t have to call pest control on any rodents…

My sister’s guy wasn’t a rodent because of how much money he (didn’t) make, don’t get me wrong. The only reason I can afford school is because of my writing and how many scholarships it got me. No, my sister’s guy just looked the part. And he died in a shootout. Did I mention the white hair?

I wish I was as striking as either of them, to be honest. Being a brunette doesn’t get you anywhere in life, but at least I’ll look smart. I wonder if my sister will ever visit me in Stillwater. Will we even recognize each other? It’s been close to four years now.

All I know is that my sister has long, black hair.


	2. Days of our Lives

Pony and I leave the English building together like we do every other weekday. It’s Friday, and family weekend is upon us at Oklahoma State.

“Your folks making the trip down to see you?” he asks, the new leaves on the trees above us casting flecks of shadows across his face as we walk.

“Oh, no. It’s much too far a drive from Colorado and Matt has a track meet this weekend.”

“Track, huh? Man, I miss running.”

“You should’ve gone out for the team.”

“Nah, I can’t. One lap around and I get winded these days…” Pony trails off, reaching for his pocket. He pulls out a cigarette and his lighter, earning an eye-roll from myself.

“Gee, I wonder why that is,” he glares at me so I change the subject, “what about you? I still haven’t met your brothers.”

“Yeah, I called ‘em up last night. Darry’s bringing the whole crew to visit, just for tomorrow though. He was afraid that if they stayed the night the other guys would end up blasted at some party or somethin’. Maybe worse.”

“That’s fair.” I wince as some of Pony’s smoke blows in my face.

“Sorry,” he mutters. I shove him with my forearm, but he smiles.

“Speaking of parties…” I start, zoning out for a moment.

“What?”

“Oh. Uh, never mind.”

“Suit yourself, I guess. Wanna go get your bike?”

“Sure. But we’re _not_ going back to the woods today.”

“Aw, Rach, why not?”

“You _know_ why not. Wheelies and pine trees are a terrible combination, Curtis.”

* * *

Soda and Darry are at my side for the first time in months and I couldn’t be happier. It sure is nice to be away from the house and all our arguments for a while, but hanging out with the gang again is something I didn’t know how much I needed.

“This place sure is purdy,” Soda drawls, sipping on a bottle of coke. “Is it just me, or has everything been in technicolor since the new decade started?”

“It’s just you, man,” Steve answers from behind us, his shoes dragging on the pavement. We’re just walking, like old times, but with a change of scenery. Campus sure is a lot nicer than the east side of Tulsa, though, I’ll say.

“What do you usually do on weekends, kid?” Two-Bit asks as he sidles up between me and Darry.

“Oh, y’know. Study, go to the movies, Sunday afternoons in the library-”

“That’s it?! Pone, you have free reign here and all you do is study? Man, you may as well have never graduated from high school.”

“Well, I _am_ trying to get a degree, y’know. And unfortunately for all of us there’s no degree program for picking up chicks and getting high.”

“Damn, I’d better open up my own college then!”

I roll my eyes as we walk on, not really going anywhere. I’d showed the gang all the places I go for classes and had only spent about five minutes in the library until Steve got us kicked out. It’s a shame, I’d really wanted to show Soda the section where they keep all the real old books, and I mean _really_ old ones. He’d have dug it for sure.

We pass the music building and I hear violins, or violas, or something stringed playing out through the windows. I’ve always loved music but I sure ain’t smart- or rich- enough for that. I’m spacing out until a voice from somewhere else calls my name.

“Ponyboy, hey!”

I wince a bit. I’ve been trying to go by Curtis as much as I can here, but some of my closer friends won’t bite. They wanna appreciate “me” for who I am. I swear they’re all hippies or something.

It’s Rachel, running across the street from the music building. I know she used to play in an orchestra back home and hangs out with the music geeks, but I’ve never heard her play.

“Ooh, Pony, who’s she?” Two-Bit jabs me in the ribs with his elbow as I shoo him off.

“Hey, Rach, how are you?” I try not to shrink back in embarrassment as Soda and Steve whisper to each other. Two-Bit is giggling and I want to sock him in the mouth.

“I’m good! Hey, which ones are your bros?”

Before I can respond, I notice how different Rachel looks compared to how she is in class. Her hair is down, for one, and she’s got on these real wide-framed sunglasses like she’s straight out of Woodstock.

“I’m Sodapop,” Soda pushes past me and reaches a hand out to Rachel. She shakes it, smiling.

“You’re the spitting image of your brother,” she glows, her voice sounding funny to me compared to Soda’s twangy drawl. “and you must be Darrel?” she glances over at Darry who’s easily the oldest looking out of all of us.

“That I am,” Darry nods. “Nice to meet you. Pony’s told us all about you in his letters, actually.”

I don’t pay the comment any mind as Rachel laughs.

“Oh, that’s nice of him. Listen, Pony, can I talk to you?”

I’m about to reply before Soda cuts me off and I notice how Two-Bit and Steve have since pushed past me.

“Ooh, is your girlfriend mad at you?” my brother teases and I feel the blood drain from my face. I don’t want to look at Rachel but I can’t look away. The playful spark in her azure eyes sizzles out, her face darkening.

“Um…” her cheeriness is soon replaced with the discomfort I’ve come to know so well. I shove past the guys, blocking out what they’re saying.

“Sorry about them,” I tell Rachel as I pull her away from my friends. I think I overhear Darry lecturing Sodapop, but he really didn’t know any better. We walk off the sidewalk and into the grass in front of one of the school buildings. “I told you they were wild, that’s why I didn’t-”

“Hey, don’t worry about it.” I’m surprised at the interruption but even more surprised at Rachel’s even tone. “I get it. It’s not something I should be sensitive about-”

“Don’t say that,” I’m the one interrupting this time, stopping myself from putting my hands on her shoulders. “no one gets to decide what you feel bad about.”

“I know, but it’s been almost half a year. I shouldn’t miss him anymore.”

“Well, Soda’s one to talk. Do you know how long it took him to get over Sandy? Remember me telling you about that one?”

“How long?”

“Two years, Rach. If he knew what you’d been through he wouldn’t ‘a said that.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter. Anyway, I just wanted to ask if you wanted to come to a party tonight. Mary and I are having some people over to our apartment and I figured you probably don’t have anything else to do after your friends go home.”

“A party? Wow, who are you anymore?” I feign betrayal and earn a laugh from my friend. It’s nice.

“I figured I could use something other than the library on a Saturday night. And I figured you could, too.”

“Hm… I’ll think about it.”

“Aw, come on. You know you wanna.”

“Maybe. But I dunno if you want a seventeen-year-old on the premises when you’re dealing with twenty drunks.”

“Twenty? More like ten. And God, stop reminding me you’re seventeen. Gives me the creeps.”

“Yeah, I shouldn’t remind myself either. I’ll let you know before tonight.”

“Sounds good.”

“Do you wanna hang with us for a while?” I motion back towards the sidewalk where the greasers are, a single glance telling me just how impatient they’re getting.

“Oh, um…” Rachel looks back at them for a second then to the ground again. “…I probably shouldn’t. Maybe another time?”

“I guess. But I promise Soda didn’t mean to-”

“And I promise it’s okay, silly. I’ll be waiting for your call.”

“Don’t kill me if I forget.”

“You’d better not!”

* * *

I sit next to my roommate on the couch, staring up at the clock. It’s 9pm and most of our friends are milling about the apartment, cups in hand.

“I thought you invited Pony,” Mary asks me, sipping on a mixed drink. “He seriously ditch us for the library?”

“He’d better not have,” I folded my arms, the beer bottle I’d chosen still untouched on the coffee table. “If he graduates without having been to a single party he may as well have not gone to college at all.” Mary laughs before taking another sip.

“I dunno, Rach, seems like he’s got this figured out better than the rest of us. Curtis’ll be valedictorian while we’re all barely scraping by with C’s.

“Hey, I’m not getting C’s!” We laugh together as I finally give in to my beer. I’m not going to let disappointment ruin my night.

“Hey, Rach, where’s the vodka?” My friend Will calls from the kitchenette.

“Cabinet above the fridge. Don’t be greedy, that stuff’s mine!” I sink back into the couch, staring up at the cracks in the ceiling. It sure was nice to unwind after so long, and even though my mental health had been a nightmare for the past half year, I’d never really fallen into a habit of drinking. It was fun with friends, though, and nights like these, when I actually socialized, were rare.

For a while the eight of us crowd around the coffee table, sitting on chairs, kitchen stools, the armrests of couches and each other. We talk about high school, as most of us are only freshmen, and the locals talk about the different types of kids from around the state. As a not-so-local, I find myself dozing off on Mary’s shoulder.

“Hey, go get that.” My roommate shoves me off as I only barely hear the knocking at our front door. I step over my friends who are sitting on the floor, thankful that I’d only had half a beer as I try to keep my balance. Forgetting what I’d been disappointed about earlier, I swing open the door without checking who’s there.

“Hey, Rach!”

“Pony! You forgot to call, you crazy son of a…”

Our words become a mess of banter as we hug and I make sure to get in a violent noogie for good measure.

“Come on, I did my hair up and everything!”

“Yeah, ew, now my hand’s all greasy. Go sit down with everyone and I’ll get you something to drink. What do you want?”

“Oh, you know me. Water is fine.”

“I do know you. Lame. But I won’t push it.”

~~~

I’d taken the bottle from Will before he could guzzle the whole thing, remembering how much more expensive vodka was than the beer I’d since finished. Since this was my apartment, I wasn’t afraid of taking all our hardest stuff for myself – Not like I have to walk home.

I’d given up my spot on the couch to Pony and was now sitting on the floor between him and Mary, laughing at nearly everything anyone said. I was buzzed for the first time in months, and boy was it fun.

“You should have some water,” I look up to see Pony with a hand on my shoulder, pushing his cup in my face. “You’re getting a little loopy.”

“That’s the point!” I just about yell at him but take a huge swig of water anyway. Laughter glimmers in my friend’s green eyes. I love making my friends laugh, that’s why I drink. In my stupor I trade my bottle for Pony’s cup, and he doesn’t protest.

As the night rolls on, Mary offers to walk half of our group back home so I take her spot on the couch. I try to arm wrestle with Pony but without a flat surface I just about pop my arm out of its socket. My music major friends, Joey and Emma, are fighting over the record player. I tell them it’s Sgt. Pepper or else they’d better get out. At one point I beg Will to let me downstairs to go get my mountain bike to take for a spin, but luckily he won’t let me out the door. That would’ve been a disaster. When Pony wants a smoke I make him go out to the balcony, both of us feigning hatred of each other’s guts. College nights sure are stupid, but they’re electric.

* * *

Honestly, I hate hard liquor. I don’t believe anyone who says they like it straight, but it sure does get you woozy. And for once, I’m okay with that.

It’s nice to cool off with friends like this. Back home, this many drinks only meant trouble for the lot of us. The way Dally always was made me never want to drink in my entire life, but this was different. We all made sure everyone got home safe and didn’t make themselves sick. Or at least, _too_ sick. I’ll still never go anywhere near a frat house but people like this can really hang. It surprised me when Will didn’t let Rachel go biking down the middle of the street; I know I’d wanted to see it, but sometimes idiocy goes too far. Being from where I’m from, I know that firsthand.

I’m smoking out back after a while, watching the few cars that pass go cruising by on the street below. Their headlights blur in my vision and I’m not sure it’s the brightest idea to hang out above a three-story drop while crossed. But I stay anyway, wondering if I’m really seeing that many stars in the sky this far into the city or if it’s just my vision fuzzing over.

After a while I reach for the door, stumbling a bit as I call back into the apartment.

“Hey, Rach, you have some aspirin or something? My head’s fuzzy.”

After what was either two seconds or two hours, Rachel pokes her head into the back room and points to the door on the left.

“Medicine cabinet above the sink. Put out that light and get back in here, we miss you.”

I never thought I’d hear those words from anyone but Sodapop. The friends I’d made in the past semester and a half sure were different from the friends I’d made back in my hometown.

I put out my cigarette against the brick siding outside and don’t remember what I did with it after that, walking in slow motion to the bathroom. Or, at least, it feels like slow motion. I laugh to myself. It’s fun.

In the bathroom I find the aspirin right away but spend a while snooping around in the medicine cabinet. For some reason I grab a different bottle and the aspirin falls into the sink with a clatter.

_Peroxide,_ I start to laugh again, harder this time. The next thing I know I’m back in the living room, waving my arms around like a lunatic and telling the story of Windrixville like it’s some crazy fun time I wish I could experience all over again. I remember acting out the killing of Bob, the cutting of my hair, reciting _Gone with the Wind_ and finally, the fire. I think I turned into a bawling mess but I honestly can’t remember. I still miss Johnny a whole lot.

The last few things that flash through my head that night are a group hug with all of my friends and the smell of peroxide.

* * *

My eyes open wearily at some point the next morning.

I’m in my room, in my own bed, alone. I can still taste alcohol on my breath and curse myself for forgetting to brush my teeth.

It’s quite a while before I bring myself to get out of bed. My head splits with pain as soon as I stand up and I desire coffee immediately.

I’m in the same clothes as the night before, a green sequined top and some loose black bell-bottoms. My perfume has definitely worn off, though. I feel like garbage. I change into an old t-shirt and sweatpants before poking my head into Mary’s room.

She’s asleep, legs hanging off the bed, still in her ugly dress from the night before. I decide not to wake her as I know what her morning rage can bring even without a bad hangover.

I drag myself into the front room, about to head for the kitchen until I almost fall over.

Ponyboy is asleep on my couch, and he looks like Ronald McDonald.

I must’ve woken up the entire apartment complex with my screeching laughter. I really can’t take it, it’s probably the funniest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Gone is his pretty auburn hair, replaced with firetruck red.

“SHUT UP!” I hear Mary yell through the wall, but I can’t stop myself. Pony blinks sleep out of his eyes and looks over at me. I’m on the floor.

“Rach, what… what’s so funny…”

“Ohhhhhh man, dude, you should SEE yourself right now… what _happened_ last night?”

“Huh?” Pony sits up an I can see the headache on his face. I almost feel bad for him but I keep laughing anyway. He notices the bottle of peroxide and the box hair dye on the coffee table and his green eyes are round as dinner plates.

“Go see yourself in the mirror… Oh boy, what did we _do?”_

My friend stands up a little too fast, nearly toppling to the floor beside me in the process. I’d help him to the bathroom but I am absolutely beside myself at this point.

I’m lying on the floor of the front room, tears running down my face as I hear Pony from the bathroom.

“Oh, shit.”

He rarely swears, so I’m laughing even harder. In hindsight, I acted like a pretty terrible friend, but the whole thing was priceless.

I eventually make my way over to meet him, covering my mouth with one hand.

“I think I remember you said something about a girl named Cherry…”

“Cherry… Valance? Y’know, maybe I did, but this is definitely _not_ what I was going for.” Pony eyes the shower for a moment than turns to me.

“Can I wash my hair?”

“Sure, go ahead. But you’re gonna smell like a girl if you use my shampoo.”

“That’s probably the least of my problems right now.”

~~~

I brew a pot of coffee while Pony uses the shower, still trying to keep the giggles down. I still feel like hell from the hangover but the comedic relief helps more than coffee ever could. Mary eventually trudges in, pouring herself the first cup.

“What were you hollerin’ on about this mornin’?” She grumbles, her drawl more noticeable with her anger.

“Oh, you’ll see,” I mutter, finishing up a glass of water before grabbing a mug and filling it with joe.

“Who’s in our shower?”

“Ponyboy. Found him on the couch this morning.”

“Hm. Any other freeloaders left over from last night?”

“Don’t think so.”

We hang around the kitchen in silence for a while until the bathroom door opens and Pony trudges into the kitchen, wearing the clothes he’d been in the night before.

“GLORY, PONY! What’s with your hair?!” Mary gasps before falling into giggles. My eyes bug out of their sockets. He wasn’t a redhead anymore – apparently washing out as much of the dye as possible had turned Ponyboy’s hair a rosy pink.

“You should’ve seen it earlier.” he glares at me, definitely grieving his “tuff” hair, as he liked to say, but I can tell he's struggling not to laugh with us.

“Oh, I think it’s… cute.” I start, but break off into laughter again.

“Yeah, to you. I’m gonna get eaten alive on the streets for this, yanno?”

I watch as Pony makes his way back to the couch, flopping down hard and staring at the ceiling.

“The streets?” I echo, making my way over to him. “You act like you’re back on the east side and some kid in a Mustang is gonna cut you up for it.”

“You sound more hood every time you talk,” he mutters. I roll my eyes. I certainly do not.

“It’s 1970, man. No one cares about hair anymore.” Pony gives an incredulous look at my remark and I tell myself not to diss hair ever again.

“Yeah, well I care. This is just like the old days…”

“I thought that’s what you wanted,” I interject, memories from last night’s conversations suddenly coming back to me.

“I dunno, man…” It’s weird hearing him call me “man”.

Suddenly, I notice the peroxide and hair dye on the table and snatch it in an instant. I hurry off to the bathroom, Mary and Pony watching quizzically as I leave without a word.

* * *

I’m sitting on the couch with Mary while Rachel is in the bathroom. The TV’s on but I’m zonked out, moping internally about my hair. Man, am I thankful the guys visited yesterday and not any day afterwards. I’d never hear the end of this, not even after we’re all dead and gone. Hopefully I can grow out this mop before the semester is over…

I’m brought back to my senses from the sound of someone stumbling into the room. I look up without moving my head and just about lose my mind.

“What do you think?” Rachel asks me and her roommate, posing for us in her fuzzy bathrobe. Her long, once-brown hair is now the same grisly shade as mine and she looks like some coked-up popstar.

“Oh, lordy, Rachel, not you too!” Mary grovels and buries her face in her hands. I sit up, wondering how any sober person could willfully color their hair pink.

“Now we match!” She runs over to me, that playful smile from yesterday back on her face. I can’t help but return it.

“Yeah, but now we both look like fruits,” I complain, trying to keep the amusement out of my voice.

“It’s the ‘70s, Pony. It’s 'in' to go all-out.”

* * *

Rachel and I get a _lot_ of questions on Monday. And Tuesday. And for the rest of the week. I know my hair will grow out fast, but hers is so long that it’ll take years to get it back to normal. She says she might just cut it all off once it fades, and I don’t blame her.

All I know right now is that if I don’t get my tuff hair back by the time I have to go home for the summer, I’m bringing Rachel home with me so she has to share the ridicule from my brothers. I guess I want them to _actually_ meet her, too.


	3. Wildflowers

It’s the last day of classes and my hands are shaking. Almost uncontrollably.

The last time I was this anxious was either while opening decisions letters from colleges or the night Johnny killed Bob. In between and after those times, I was either riding the wave of denial or surfing through life without much to worry about.

I’ve been a live wire since talking with Will last night on the roof of our dorm building. That guy’s always cooking up trouble, just like Two-Bit but with spiky blond hair and the widest brown eyes I ever saw. I’m not saying he’s ugly, but the guy is certainly… out there. We like to smoke together and talk about what’s on our minds, stuff that only some guys would really understand. He reminds me a lot of Sodapop in that he gets me when the others don’t and knows my experiences like a girl never could. I used to think that last bit, at least.

I really don’t know what’s gotten into me. Darry always warned about peer pressure, even more so now that I’m not at home anymore. I’m usually able to hold my ground pretty well but right now I wish I’d listened to my brother. I’m not sure why I’m doing this but I don’t think I needed Will to convince me in the first place.

I should’ve been able to pass out of Comp II with my high school credits but for some logistical reason, probably my major, I was forced to take it anyway. It was a gen ed for most people, pretty easy stuff, but I can admit writing a college paper isn’t the same as writing my own stories.

Trying to hide that I’m on the brink of a panic attack is a lot harder in a lecture hall of a hundred than pretty much anywhere else. It’s taking all of my concentration to keep my knee from bouncing like it does when I’m stressed and I’m wishing I could just have a smoke and I’m really wishing she wasn’t right next to me right now-

“Hey, you okay?” Rachel whispers, not taking her eyes off the professor. I don’t look at her either and wipe my palms on my jeans.

“Yeah, why?”

“You’re just acting weird.”

I’m about to reply but the bell rings and cuts me off. Rachel and I shuffle out of the lecture hall with the crowd, the excitement of the final weekend on campus obvious with how everyone rushes out. I don’t share the same feeling. But what even am I feeling?

I know, I’m feeling sick. I haven’t smoked all day. I don’t know why I decided this was a good idea.

We take our usual route from the English building. I haven’t asked to study together but assume we’re going to the library.

“Can you believe classes are over?” she asks breezily. Her long hair is still a nice cotton-candy pink while mine just looks bleached straw. I’m never touching peroxide again.

“No, it doesn’t feel like it. Especially with all the tests we gotta study for.” My voice doesn’t shake and I’m surprised.

“Well, it’s just like last semester was. And plus, we get a lot of free time during finals week.” I really wish she wouldn’t have said that.

“Yeah, but that ‘free time’ is for studying, Rach,” there’s a catch on her name as I end my sentence and I’m looking straight ahead. Rachel starts veering off towards the direction of her apartment and the panic gets worse. Feels like I’m walking through molasses by the way my legs are failing me.

“We’re not heading to the library?”

“Oh, no, I’m going home. You can go on without me.”

I really have no idea what I’m doing and this change of plans makes it so much worse.

“You sure? I can look over your final paper-”

“Relax, Pony, it isn’t due for another week. Why don’t you take the night off? I’d invite you to hang but I promised Mary I’d spend the afternoon with her.”

I’m seriously at a loss for words now. Maybe this wasn’t a bad thing, maybe it was a good idea not to bring it up today, maybe…

“I guess so. I can still walk you home, though.”

 _What?!_ Why would I say something like that? It’s 2 in the damn afternoon.

“Uh… sure!” it’s amazing to me how Rachel just simply accepts my idiocy without batting an eye. Not that I could tell, as she has those wide-rimmed shades on. It already feels like summer. I’m sweating like crazy and the weather doesn’t help.

I’m usually good at making conversation and manage to come up with some coherent sentences between the main quad and Rachel’s apartment. Sometimes I wish I could write out my words to people rather than just saying what pops into my head at the moment. It would be nice to be able to proofread my conversations.

“When’s your last final?” I ask.

“Next Thursday. But I’m not leaving town until Friday morning.”

“Oh, my last one’s on Friday. So it’s pretty much the same for me.”

I’m starting to have major doubts as we’re on Rachel’s street. It’s the middle of the day and campus is swarming with all kinds of activity. This is the worst possible time…

“Well, let me know if you want to study together this weekend,” she says in an aside as we’re in front of her place, “you have my number.”

I say nothing as Rachel turns to head inside. Until…

“Hey, wait, I forgot something.” The words leave my mouth before I can proofread them.

“What is it?” she responds, half turning back towards me. I’m just kind of standing there lamely, about to chalk it up to a nevermind, until suddenly I’m possessed.

I close the distance between us without realizing it and everything slows down as I look into Rachel’s face. She’s got this strange expression I’ve never seen before, not from her or from anyone I’d ever met. I freeze up. Change my mind. But she doesn’t.

My eyes are still open as she seals the deal, her candy floss hair obscuring my vision. I don’t know what to do with my anything. I feel her arms wrap around my neck and am painfully aware of the sweat soaking the collar of my shirt. I hug her close, just like always, but somehow different this time. I only register what her lips feel like a split second before she pulls away: really nice.

I must look completely shell-shocked after the fact, but Rachel’s smiling. Not one of her wild Saturday-night smiles, something different.

“You okay?” her voice is airy and I’m thankful I’m not the only one of us who still can’t breathe.

“Y-yeah, I-”

“I could tell something was up. Call me later, I gotta go.” And she was gone.

I don’t know how long I stood in the grass outside Rachel’s building. I probably looked like a total creep, but I didn’t care and neither did the passersby. I know the kiss was my idea, but somehow it feels like she beat me to it.

I stare at the ceiling above my couch until Mary gets home.

What even just happened?

I know I’ve been feeling differently in the past month. The pain of last summer is finally beginning to fade as something else is taking up space in my mind. I just didn’t think I’d ever admit it.

I probably shouldn’t have left just now. He definitely had something to say, I sure am good at cutting things short. In trying to play it cool I’d basically fled from anything that could have actually happened, so in reality, nothing did.

It was kind of cute how shy he was but I sorta feel bad. I was scared but he was terrified. I don’t think of myself as an intimidating person, but who knows?

I knew something was off since our last class. It seems obvious now but I just couldn’t put my finger on it at the time. I’m still not certain, either. Did I do the right thing? It seemed like it. I never really think about how Pony is actually the age of a high school senior but today it’s more obvious than ever.

The strangest thing to me was how he didn’t taste like cigarettes as I’d feared. I hadn’t seen him smoking at all throughout the day, which in hindsight was a dead giveaway of something being amiss. Had he really been thinking about this all day? I wouldn’t put it past him.

Maybe I can convince Mary to stay in with me tonight, watch a movie. I would really like to keep an eye on my phone until I hear something from Pony, as for once I have no idea what’s going on in his head.

I’ve always been terrible with girls and everyone back home knows it. The few “girlfriends” I had in high school didn’t stick around for more than a week or two and even then, they felt compulsory. Soda eventually decided I was destined to die alone, which still seems like the most likely outcome for me.

I’m certainly not helping my cause. The weekend before finals is spent alone on the graduate floor of the library, poring over textbooks and notes to get my mind off things. I end up avoiding the phone without really trying and realize I’ll only see Rachel two more times before the semester is over if I don’t reach out. We have two finals together, one on Wednesday and the other Thursday. I figure I can get my thoughts together by then, but any sooner would be a no-go.

It turns out waiting that long probably wasn’t a great idea.

I end up sitting as far away from Rachel as I can during our Wednesday final for some reason, finishing early and leaving without trying to find her face in the lecture hall. I know I’m being a jerk but I don’t know what to say to her. We always avoided the topic of relationships since it really upset her, just how Soda and I didn’t touch the topic after Sandy left. So I’m not sure how well she’d react if I told her how I really felt.

Thursday is a different story. I somehow look up from my paper as Rachel is handing hers in at the front of the room and she sees me. Her expression is unreadable, then she turns and heads out. I already know what’s coming next.

I don’t try to stall my work and finish not twenty minutes after Rachel does. As soon as I’m out the door she’s in my face, not paying any mind to the other students milling around in the hallway.

“Ponyboy Curtis, why haven’t I heard from you?” she’s definitely angry and has every right to be. My ears start to burn as I’m forced to face what I’ve been trying to avoid.

“I’m sorry, Rach, I’ve been really busy with studying and I-”

“Bullshit.”

“What?”

We’re heading out of the English building but she’s burning me with a sidelong glance.

“I don’t know how you can study after leaving us both hanging like that.” The door slams behind us and we walk on, going nowhere in particular. I know she’s right. I’m a mess.

“I dunno, either. Look, I’m sorry about Friday. I didn’t know what I was thinking, I should’ve known you’d be upset…” I trail off, my hands shaking just like they had nearly a week ago.

“Oh, that? I’m not upset about you kissing me,” out of the corner of my eye I see Rachel touch her lips for a second, a shadow of a smile on her face until her expression hardens again, “but you said you’d call. You’re really bad at keeping promises, you know?”

Yeah, I know. Darry hounded me for that personality flaw all the time.

“I just thought I’d messed up or something, that you didn’t want to go there-”

“Well you didn’t ask me what I thought, did you? Let’s go to the woods and talk, I’m not letting you get out of it.

~~~

“So, what do you think?”

I watch Rachel’s face as she looks out over the horizon. We’re on the edge of the forest near campus, sitting against the trees, overlooking a grassy expanse dotted with purple wildflowers. I’m hoping we can stay long enough to catch the sunset.

“Well, I really like you, Pony, but the timing… isn’t the greatest.”

I inwardly curse myself, having known this all along.

“I’m sorry. I know you need more time-”

“No, that’s not it.”

I raise an eyebrow at her remark.

“Then what is?” after a short silence I backtrack. “Sorry, I don’t want to sound-”

“Stop apologizing.”

“I will once you stop cutting me off.”

“That doesn’t make any sense, silly. Anyway, the semester’s over. I’m not gonna see you for a whole three months. Do you really think it’d be a good idea to… start something right now?”

I hadn’t thought much about that obvious truth until now. The reality of not being able to see most of my friends for the whole summer quickly sinks in and I regret not making plans to meet up with anyone.

“Leave it to me to not think further than a minute ahead, I guess.” I’m not sure of what else to say.

“Let’s see where we’re at in the fall-”

“Hey, we have all of tonight to hang out, why don’t we make the best of it?” It was my turn to interrupt now.

“…Well, gee, I guess you’re right.” She stands up suddenly and I follow, amused. She points at something in the distance. “Last one to that tree has to buy dinner.”

Oh, she doesn’t stand a chance.

We make it back to the meadow by sunset, per Ponyboy’s request. My wallet is aching from having to pay for our last dinner of the semester but I don’t mind. Sometimes memories are worth the money.

We’re laying in the grass as Pony weaves the wild violets into my hair. I know my locks are horrendously tangled from running and climbing all over the place but his fingers don’t pull too hard and I feel myself dozing.

“Looks pretty,” I hear, his voice hazy as I stare into the deep orange sky. He’s looking down at me and I feel myself smile, then sit up with him.

“Thanks, let me do you now.” I start ripping flowers out of the ground around me with haste and Pony laughs.

“Word choice is important.”

I start laughing too, remembering all the funny euphemisms we’d come up with in our Comp II class that semester. I start threading the petals through Pony’s bleached hair, noticing how his dark roots have finally started growing out. A thought surfaces in my mind and spills out without me trying.

“Your brothers’ll sure be shocked when they see you tomorrow.”

“Don’t remind me. I’m never gonna hear the end of it, but at least it isn’t pink anymore.”

I begin to laugh but then remember something Ponyboy had mentioned to me a few weeks back.

“Hey, maybe I can visit you over the summer. Get to know your crew for real, maybe take half of the blame for your hair.”

Pony’s watching the sunset as I brush through his hair with my fingertips, hesitating before he speaks.

“I dunno how you’d like it back home. It’s… rough sometimes.”

“ _You’re_ rough sometimes. I think I can take it.”

“Home isn’t flowers-in-your hair, watching-the-sunset ‘rough’, Rach.” There’s amusement in his voice as I finish my masterpiece then sit next to Pony again but I can feel his resignation.

“Well, maybe this wouldn’t be so hard if we visited over the summer,” my voice is low before I impulsively peck his cheek with my lips. I feel amusement creep onto my face as his cheeks flush.

“Hm. All I’m sayin’ is that you’ll have to endure a hell of a lot of terrible jokes from the gang if you decide to stay with us. And pranks, And-”

“Jeez, if it’s that much of a hassle you can just come visit me.”

“R-really?”

“Why not? I can ask my parents tomorrow when they pick me up at the airport, call you right when I get home.”

Pony’s not looking at me, deep in thought as the sky fades to purple.

“I mean… that’s nice and all, but I dunno if I have enough money to get me there, or if Darry’ll even let me, or-”

“I could probably pay for you.”

“Rachel, don’t…”

“Why not? I can afford it. Scholarships have my tuition covered, don’t gotta worry about that.”

Pony’s thinking again and I lean into him a little, surprised at my total lack of inhibition. Any level of discomfort I ever had around him has melted away in the past few hours.

“I’ll think about it,” he says into my ear this time since we’re so close. Suddenly he shifts and stands up, holding out a hand to me. “It’s getting late, we should probably head back into town.”

I don’t want to leave this moment but I can already feel the mosquitos biting at my exposed ankles. Suddenly impulsivity comes over me like a massive wave.

“Mary moved out for the summer this morning, do you want to stay with me tonight?”

It’s dark but I see Pony’s eyes widen.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. Don’t know when I’ll see you next, might as well make tonight count.”

I’m not sure what I mean by that but I do know I’m not going to let timing get in our way.


	4. Arkansas Valley

I throw the duffel bag over my shoulder, leaving my childhood bedroom in haste. My worn-out sneakers skid on the floor of the kitchen and I check the clock on the wall. It’s just after eight, so not too bad, but I won’t be able to make it to Salida before dinner even with the time zone difference.

“You sure you’re alright driving, Pone?” Darry intercepts me before I can make it to the

door.

“Yeah, Dar, we’ve been over this,” I don’t want to brush him off but it would be best to leave as soon as possible.

“I know, kiddo, but don’t push yourself too hard. I gave you some extra cash in case you need to spend the night somewhere-”

I tune him out and pull my wallet from my pocket, shaking my head at the twenty bucks he’d slipped in without me noticing. I take the bill out and push it towards him.

“Don’t need it. I have enough cash from working all summer, and plus, I’m driving all the way through.”

“Just take it, Ponyboy,” he refuses to take the money and I put it back into my wallet, noting that I’ll get it back to him after the trip, “just in case.”

“Fine,” I pocket my wallet, hoping my brother will just let me leave without an awkward lecture.

“You eat something?” he asks simply.

“Yeah, just some cereal. I’ll get lunch on the road.”

“You’d better.” Darry gives me a hug goodbye and I wonder how strange it is that being away at college has been the best thing for our relationship since Windrixville. Darry and Soda and all the rest sure miss me when I’m gone and part of me hates to leave again. I said my goodbyes to everyone the night before but right now I wish Soda still lived with us. It feels weird not having him see me off.

“You call as often as you can,” my oldest brother shouts from the porch as I make my way to the 1959 Impala I bought during my junior year, “and right when you get to Salida.”

“Sure thing, Dar. See you next week.”

~~~

The drive out of Oklahoma is pretty easy. Route 412 is a straight shot from Tulsa into New Mexico, a blessing and a curse. My tendency to daydream has gotten me into one or two-a highway hypnosis over the years but I blare the radio to keep me focused. Come to think of it, this is the furthest I’ve ever traveled and I’m roughing it alone. How about that.

It’s a wonder how Darry even let me go. Just turning 18 probably has something to do with it but I can tell he’s worried sick. It’s in his eyes. Soda gave me a free tank of gas at the DX last night and a hearty slap on the back with little doting. It feels like everyone’s stopped holding their breath since I started seeing (those are loose terms, mind you) Rachel. Don’t wanna know what they were assuming about me beforehand. The truth is, I don’t blame ‘em. My head’s always been in the clouds, girls one of the last things on my mind. Even now, this feels different. We’re just really good friends who sometimes do things people who are more than friends do. I don’t know how people like Soda and Steve let this stuff consume their daily lives. Rachel’s just another person I’m really close to. Maybe if there wasn’t that distance factor it’d be different, but I guess I’ll find out in the fall.

I drive through the outskirts of Stillwater during the first hour or so of my trip. Part of me wants to venture into campustown for old times’ sake but I pass, wanting to speed up my commute as best as I can. The drive from home to school for me really isn’t that bad in the scheme of things, I could go home every weekend during the semester if I wanted to. But being away is nice. It’s a wonder Darry didn’t come out to chaperone me half the time or visit more often than he did. It must be hard for him to loosen his grip after everything we’ve been through. I’ll thank him when I get home.

Around noon I give Darry some psychic ease and stop for lunch along the highway. I end up at a Dairy Queen and think of Dallas and Johnny. It’s been about four years since everything happened, but right now it feels like it could’ve been yesterday. I try to eat fast and get out of there before the past catches up with me.

The further out I get from the cities the less and less cars are out on the highway. Quite a revelation, I know. I come upon a red convertible on the shoulder, wondering if they’ve broken down. I slow a bit and see it’s one of those cars with a swiveling passenger seat, as the woman next to the driver has turned around to face the kids in the back. While passing I notice instantly that she’s lecturing them, reminded of all the times Darry’s had to stop his truck to chew me or Soda out. Boy, it’ll be a long time before I ever think about having kids.

~~~

The sun has already started to dip in the sky by the time I cross into New Mexico. I find it strange how Colorado borders my home state yet the fastest route doesn’t have me cross there. The highway system is real weird.

Sunlight begins to beam through my windshield and I put the visor down, noticing that the mirror on it is still open from the last time I drove. I flip my bangs out of my eyes, noticing how long they’ve gotten. I bit the bullet in June and dyed my hair, one last time, I promised, back to its original color. Well, it isn’t as red as it should be but it’s close enough. I really didn’t want to cut all my hair off and look like some scared 14-year old kid again. Actually, I can’t remember the last time I got my hair cut. Spring break, maybe? I’ve been greasing it less and less, too. I’m not sure why. Growing it long keeps me from looking like a soc even without the grease and a lot of the guys I hang around with at school have long hair. I’m starting to like it.

A few weeks ago Rachel called me up – well, she calls me up nearly every other day, but I’m thinking of one call in particular. She was all excited about cutting 16 or so inches off her hair and fixing up the color again. I’m interested to see what she looks like with short hair, it’s probably not much longer than mine. We’re both going to look so different, not having seen each other in the past few months.

Morbid thoughts fill my head as they tend to as I pass through Clayton, New Mexico. I think of how much a person changes in two months, six months, a year. How all that stops when you die. How although Dallas Winston was three years older than me when he died, I’m now older than he was. He’s forever 17, six feet under with the same haircut he got back in 1965. Johnny’s still covered in burns if his skin isn’t rotted away by now, back still cracked in two by falling timber. I’ve aged past both of them. I wonder what would’ve become of Johnny and Dal if they were still here, I wonder if-

A truck horn blares in my ears and I see the headlights.

“Shit,” I curse and swerve back over the yellow line into the right lane before I can be hit head on. The truck speeds past a few seconds later. A close call, but I’ve had closer. Daydreaming again. I turn up the radio after it’s been a low murmur for the past hundred miles or so, it’s _Helter Skelter_ by the Beatles. I wince at first then remember how Rachel and so many of our friends love the band, so I let it play. It’s not terrible but I can’t get the association with socs out of my head. Although it feels like the Beatles play for hippies now, not socs. Word is _Let it Be_ released back in May was their last album and I’m not sure how to feel about it.

The thoughts come back, the close call with the semi bringing back some unpleasant memories. I think about mom and dad. They weren’t too old, not even close to 50 when they died. I wonder if I’ll make it to 50. Darry says I won’t unless I cut the smokes, people are saying they cause lung cancer or something, but I’m not sure I can manage that. I’d indulged in a few sticks during the drive, trying to get the itch out of my system before Salida. Rachel’s such a hypocrite. She drinks and I’m pretty sure she smokes pot but that girl won’t touch a cigarette with a ten-foot pole. I don’t know if it’s a Colorado thing or a hippie thing but it makes my head hurt. Lighting what’s hopefully my last smoke of the day, I make a mental note to stop and brush my teeth once I cross the border.

~~~

Not much changes when I enter the state of Colorado. My ears have been popping since New Mexico with the change in elevation but the homogeny between states reminds me that political borders are almost meaningless out here. Before getting off of the 412 I’d flipped over to the highway side of the map, as I’d previously been studying the topography of where I was going. Salida is the very definition of a mountain town, even higher in the sky than Denver. It makes me lightheaded just thinking about it.

Rachel’s already warned me that the air’s thinner in the mountains, which makes sense. Another reason for me to avoid the cigs as best as I can. Although I do wonder if my girlfriend’s so out-there because she grew up on half the oxygen the rest of us did. Would explain a lot. Maybe I never found the girls from my high school interesting because of how normal and unremarkable they were.

I try to avoid digging into my psyche as best as I can during the last leg of my drive. It’s been nearly ten hours with four or five breaks and I’m really starting the feel it. It’s not close to sunset yet but driving tends to take a lot out of me. I luckily get a laugh from turning onto Route 69 and can almost hear Two-Bit joking from hundreds of miles away.

Half the time I don’t notice I’m driving in the mountains until all of a sudden, the trees on either side of the road thin out and I think, “oh, look, there’s a five hundred foot drop just one swerve away”. Driving alone is eerie. Colorado sure is pretty, though. The trees are different, thicker. Lots of pines, darker greens than in Oklahoma. Purple wildflowers abound, different from the ones back home but still purple. I wonder what they’re called.

~~~

An hour left and I don’t have to try hard to focus. The mountain roads border on perilous and I picture the relief of finally standing on hopefully solid ground once I reach Salida. It feels as if some of the cliff I’m on is about to collapse in some sort of freak rockslide but I chalk it up to anxiety. I’m feeling faint until I turn onto Route 50 and catch a sign before it whizzes out of view.

_Arkansas River Valley_

My nearly eyes pop out of their sockets and I fight the urge to turn around, to do a double take. The same river runs straight through my hometown; I had to cross the damn thing before I could even leave the Tulsa metro. Come to think of it, Rachel mentioned living on a river. What a coincidence. I couldn’t have written a better one.

The rest of the drive comes easy as I adjust to the elevation. My hearing’s still a bit fuzzy but I can feel my heartrate picking up again. It’s been more than two months since I’ve seen Rachel and I want nothing more than to wrap her up in the kind of hug my brothers give when they’ve missed me bad.

~~~

Salida’s a real quaint little place. I pull into the downtown a little after 7:15 local time, the sun still hot, slowly sinking towards the late July horizon. According to a sign, the town’s population is just over 4,000. It must’ve been a real culture shock for Rachel to go to college in a city of five times that many.

At the first stoplight in what feels like hours I squint at my map then read the address I have scribbled on a piece of scrap paper. Shouldn’t be too hard to find.

Rachel lives right outside of downtown, just a few blocks away from the high school. It’s not quite a suburb but I’m not sure what to call it. In my head, small towns like this one are just miniature cities. Suburbs are something else altogether.

I pull into her driveway at about 7:30. It feels weird to stand up after so long. The air smells of pine and it feels like I may as well be in a different country than Soda and Darry. 600 miles is suddenly too many until I see her running out the front door. I barely have time to get my bag out of the car before she knocks me over into the grass.

“Jesus, Rach!” I manage to breathe out, suddenly realizing I’d forgotten to brush my teeth after that last cigarette.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” she’s loud and in my face and I can’t help but to laugh.

“What, you didn’t think I’d make it?” I shove her off and we’re sitting in the yard together

“You said you’d never driven in the mountains. Didn’t think you had it in you if I’m being honest.”

“The only reason Darry let me drive up here was because _you_ said the mountains aren’t a big deal.”

“They’re not. You’re here, aren’t you?” I roll my eyes but can’t keep the smile off my face as she stands up. Her hair is cut to her chin and she looks happier than I’ve ever seen her. For the first time I just want to hold her face in my hands.

“That I am,” I stand up too, picking my bag up off the ground and haphazardly throwing an arm across Rachel’s shoulders.

“It feels like it’s been months, Ponyboy.”

“That’s probably because it has been.”


	5. The Rapids

I meet Rachel’s family and the first thing I notice is how tall they all are. Her mom is nearly my height and I’m by no means short, but her dad and brother are the real winners here. Matt Henning, one of Salida High’s star athletes, towers over me and even after we exchange pleasantries, I have a feeling he could beat me up whenever he sees fit. Mr. Henning is just an older Matt but not as tall or intimidating. Rachel herself is only average height but I still wonder if like the astronauts who go to the moon, living up here in the mountains can stretch your spine out.

“You’re staying in my sister’s old room,” Rachel tells me as she nearly drags me down a hallway. The house is only one story but it’s at least twice the size of Darry’s. I don’t notice any cracks in the walls and decide it’s a pretty nice place.

She leads me into a room on the left side of the hall and flicks on a light switch. White walls, like they’ve been painted over, a queen size bed and a dresser with a mirror attached. It’s amazing that all three siblings have their own rooms.

“So, when did your sister move out?” I ask as I walk in and chuck my duffel onto the bed.

“Five or so years ago,” she mumbles. I fall back onto the mattress, wanting to fall asleep the second I lie down. Rachel flops down next to me and keeps talking.

“I told you she wanted to travel the states. The last time I heard from her, she was in Oklahoma. Near Tulsa, interestingly enough.”

“Hm. I wonder if we ever saw each other.”

“Maybe. But we haven’t heard anything of her since then. I don’t have a good feeling about it, to be honest.”

I close my eyes for a moment and wonder how I would feel if Soda or Darry disappeared without a trace. In all honesty I probably wouldn’t be able to get by without either of them and it surprises me how well Rachel is holding up.

Right now, the only thing preventing me from falling asleep is her constant rambling.

“Her name was- _is-_ Paris. My parents traveled a lot before they had us and must’ve really liked Europe or something. I think they passed down that wanderlust to her.”

_Wanderlust._ Now that’s a million-dollar word. An insatiable desire to travel the world, I can dig it.

“Maybe she’s just on her own path, then. Going from place to place, not letting herself get tied down.” I find myself thinking out loud.

“I hope that’s it,” Rachel sighs and I know she isn’t optimistic. “Maybe you should take a lesson from her.”

“Huh?”

Suddenly my eyes fly open as Rachel is on top of me, grabbing my wrists before I can move out of her way. She’s got this crazy grin and is holding my arms above my head, pinning me to the bed with her knees.

“Don’t let yourself get tied down!”

I resist the urge to headbutt the smirk off her face and use my body weight to push her off. She falls to my side on the bed and I take over before she can defend herself.

“Looks like that’s your problem now,” we both laugh as I press my forehead to hers.

“Ugh, you smell like cigarettes! Blegh,” Rachel tries to push me off and I silently curse myself for that last smoke.

“Sorry,” I mutter. Before I can move and get out of such a compromising position a tapping comes on the doorframe.

“Hey, you two, don’t try anything funny.” It’s Matt. Rachel shoves me off and I topple off the bed I’m supposed to be staying in.

“Sorry, bro. Just playing, that’s all!”

“Sure. Remember, your room’s down the hall, sis.”

I watch him leave and feel my face burning.

“Shoot,” I breathe out, feeling like I’m going to stay this embarrassed for all four days I’m staying here.

“Aw, Pony, don’t worry about him,” Rachel is leaning off the bed, victory on her face as as I’m discombobulated on the floor, “you know how brothers are.”

“That I do,” I sit up, flicking my bangs out of my eyes. “It’s not even eight, what do you wanna do?”

“I dunno. Are you hungry?”

“Maybe a little.” It’s been a few hours since I’ve eaten but my thoughts have been preoccupied with other things.

“Well, I already had dinner… Hm. There’s an ice cream place down by the river, we could go get some.”

_Ice cream for dinner? Darry’d hate it._

“Sounds great, let’s go.”

~~~

Rachel and I sit at a picnic table next to the Arkansas River, the sky reddening as the sun finally begins to set. I wonder if before I leave at the end of the week, we can find some kind of cliff or canyon to watch a sunset over. I’ve always wanted to do that.

I finish my milkshake in record speed and realize how hungry I actually was. I think cigarettes might be an appetite suppressant and begin to realize they might be the reason I’m so skinny these days. Not sure that’s a good thing.

Rachel’s talking and I curse myself for daydreaming. She’s so intent on what she’s telling me that her ice cream cone is melting and starting to drip down her hand. For some reason I lean across the table and lick it off her fingers.

“Oh, gross!” She shoos me away with her free hand and our laughs bounce off the trees around us. “Don’t do stuff like that!”

“Don’t let your ice cream melt, then,” I prop my chin up on my hand, glowering with fake disdain until I can’t take it and start laughing all over again.

“Damn, I guess you’re right,” only now does Rachel notice just how bad she’s let her cone get. She essentially does the same thing I did and tries to clean it up as best as she can.

“Haha, you just touched your tongue to my tongue,” I point at her and the corner of her mouth twitches.

“You make that sound so weird. I worry about you as a writer, Ponyboy.”

Before I can reply, a thought surfaces in my head. One I haven’t brought up until now.

“Yeah, about that… I might be switching majors.”

“Huh?! To what?” It’s a wonder Rachel doesn’t drop the mutilated remains of her ice cream on the ground as she reacts.

“Well, don’t kill me, but… English education.”

Rachel gives me an incredulous look and I already know what she’s going to say.

“COPYCAT!!! You’re a damn copycat, Curtis!”

“No, I swear I’m not! I’ve just been working at the library this summer and I just… I just really like talking to people about books. And analyzing them, and talking with the high school kids, and-”

“Slow down, nerd. Are you actually serious right now?”

“I am. 100 percent.”

“Well, shoot. I’ve gotta be honest, I’m not gonna want to be competing for a job with you after we graduate-”

“But you’re going to be teaching in Colorado, right?”

It looks like Rachel blushes but it might just be the sunset.

“Well, no. At the end of my degree program I get certified to teach in Oklahoma. I thought I told you that.”

“You probably did. I must’ve been zoning out or something.”

“Yeah, just like you have been until licking my damn hand.”

“Shoot, you got me.”

“Anyway, you wanna go kayaking tomorrow?”

“Wait, what?” I’ve clearly missed a lot of our conversation. Gotta work on that.

“I knew you weren’t paying attention. I have a two-person kayak in my garage, we can totally go out on the river tomorrow. I can show you the ropes, it’ll be awesome.”

“You use ropes to steer a kayak?”

“Figure of speech. You want to be an _English_ teacher?”

“I do. It requires a vast knowledge of sarcasm _.”_

“Shit, got me there. Anyway, are we on?”

“Sure, we’re on.”

~~~

Rachel and I walk back to her place at dusk, the sky a shade of purple that matches the wildflowers I saw along the highway earlier. I thread my fingers through hers and smile. It’s never felt this right, being with someone like this.

We’re prattling on about something or other when I notice an old Ranchero start to idle on the road next to us. I tense up, memories of Mustangs past filling my vision with smoke.

“Hey, Marcus!” Rachel is waving at the car, which rolls its window down at her greeting.

“Rach! Is this the horse guy?”

“Yeah, this is Ponyboy!”

I wince. What a nickname. Turning to the guy in the car I manage to crack a smile.

“Hey, man.”

“Nice to finally meet you! Rachel, we gotta get the gang back together before horse guy leaves town. Like old times.”

“Yeah, we should! Say hi to Jane for me, will you?”

“Will do. See you guys around!” Marcus revs his engine and speeds off.

“Who was that?” I ask as we continue walking.

“Just an old friend from high school. His sister and I are pretty close. You’ll love all my friends, they’re totally your style.”

I think of Marcus’ messy hair and obnoxiously patterned shirt, not sure about that. His car wasn’t too bad, though.

“Well, I’m looking forward to it.”

~~~

I’m hanging out in Rachel’s room as she talks me through the plans for tomorrow.

“So, you’re gonna want to dress in layers. It’s going to be chilly in the morning but as the sun comes up it’ll really feel like summer.”

“Sounds easy enough,” I mumble, just wanting to get some sleep already. I’m in the chair across from Rachel’s bed and could easily fall asleep right here.

“Oh, and since it’ll be so sunny- OH MY GOSH I ALMOST FORGOT!” I jolt at Rachel’s outburst as she slams open one of her dresser drawers, rifling around for a few seconds until she takes out a small box. She whirls around and pushes it into my hands.

“Happy birthday, Pony!” I wearily take the box and open it, blinking a few times after realizing what it is.

“Oh, wow… Ray-Bans? Jeez, these are real expensive, aren’t they…”? I did forget to pack sunglasses and these ones are tuff. Real tuff. I put them on despite the dim light of the room and follow Rachel to her mirror. These make me look _good._ If I greased my hair back and wore them, I’d be the hottest greaser in the whole United States.

“Don’t worry about it, I wanted to get you something nice.” Rachel gives me a peck on the cheek and I push the sunglasses up on my forehead, blinking as my eyes adjust to the light.

“Well, gee… thanks a lot, Rach. That’s a lot of money…”

“I said don’t worry about it!” She pokes me in the side and pretends to reach for my glasses. “Or I’ll just take them back for myself.”

* * *

“I’m not letting you get in the boat until you show me you can paddle correctly!”

“What, like this?” Pony jabs the kayak paddle at me and I jump out of the way just in time.

“I’m serious! I’m not letting you slow us down. Now, just mirror me…”

I used to be a kayak instructor for the park district during my high school years, so this is nothing new to me. Ponyboy is one of the more… difficult students I’ve had.

“You have to move it like this-” I demonstrate, “-to push through the water.”

“I’m already sweating and we haven’t even started yet,” I watch Pony with amusement as he pushes his bangs back, sticking in place due to sweat. He looks so good in those sunglasses.

“That already looks better. I think we’re ready to go.”

~~~

There are quite a few kayakers on the Arkansas today. I know a few of them and wave as they go by, and boy do they go by. I can tell by our lack of speed that I’m doing all of the paddle work, but it’s okay. I’m not in a rush and it’s fun to take in the scenery with Pony.

“My arms are tired,” I hear him sigh from behind me. I turn my head around and scoff as he isn’t even paddling.

“Sad. I thought greasers were stronger than that.” He instantly starts paddling again and I turn around, not making any effort to hide my smile.

“I’m just not used to using these muscles, that’s all.”

“I get it. It takes time.”

We cruise along and I point out some landmarks along the river. The campsite I spent countless summer nights at, my friend Amanda’s house overlooking the water, the electrical pylons that have been abandoned since the fifties.

“Hard to believe this is the same river that flows through Tulsa,” Ponyboy remarks as we pass through a shallow canyon. “Looks totally different up here.”

“Right? Nature sure is amazing.”

“Maybe next summer you can kayak all the way to my house.”

“You know, I think you’re onto something.”

We talk and talk away and I’m sort of glad we’re moving so slowly. The more time we get alone together, the better.

“Hey, look, horses.” Out of the corner of my eye I see Pony pointing towards the right at a fenced-in grassy expanse. It’s the Harringtons’ farm, family friends of ours. I can name every single one of their appaloosas.

“Yeah, aren’t they pretty? Oreo’s my favorite.” I point at the black-and-white one closest to the fence.

“I like that name.”

“Me too. But hey, Curtis-”

“Hey is for horses.”

“Oh, shut it. I was just gonna say if you keep distracting me, I’ll miss our ‘exit’, so to speak. Don’t wanna get caught in the rapids, do we?”

“The rapids?”

“Oh, yeah. We’d better get off at Wellsville or it’s gonna be a bumpy ride.” I know it’s not completely true. There are some rocky falls, just a few little hills, near Box Canyon but they’re easy to avoid if you know the route. It shuts Pony up though, which is funny. Both he and I tend to talk a bit too much. Matt’s going to be taking us back to Salida from the canoe launch at Wellsville anyway and I decide it’s best to stick to plan.

~~~

The three of us load up my kayak into the bed of Matt’s truck before heading home. I sit up front with my brother like old days, Pony third-wheeling in the back like Paris used to.

“You kids have fun?” Matt asks, amusement in his tone. Sometimes I forget he’s three years younger than me, he tends to act like a second dad.

“Oh, for sure,” I answer, watching Pony’s reflection in the rearview mirror, “but I was the only one doing any work.”

Matt laughs to himself as Pony jabs my arm from the back seat.

“You said I was doing fine!”

“You were! For a first-timer. I just wanted you along for the ride.” It’s funny being better than someone at something, even though it’s only due to a lack of experience. I figure if Pony’s going to likely outdo me in my academic major, I can at least have this moment.

“Well, it was a good time. We should go again before the week is up.”

“We should, but I’m willing to bet your arms are going to be sore tomorrow.”

“I don’t know about that-”

“Oh, they will be. Rookie’s curse,” Matt chimes in. We’re all laughing this time.


	6. Past and Present

I find it strange how there’s more to do in a town of 4,000 than my city of nearly ten times as many. Well, that’s not necessarily true, but for a hood like me there aren’t many opportunities back home. I wonder how different my life would’ve been if I grew up in a place like Salida where kids don’t have damn gang wars. Sure, there are cliques, those are unavoidable, but here I feel like I can be myself and not risk getting cut up in the streets. It’s the same way on campus so maybe it’s just Tulsa that has a problem. But knowing what I know about New York and Chicago from Dally, I realize it’s more of a city problem than anything.

The week in Colorado goes by way too fast and although I miss my brothers, I wish I could stay longer. I call Darry every day but only out of necessity and even talk to Soda and Two-Bit a few times. I’m waiting to tell them the best stories until I get home.

It’s the night before I have to drive back to Oklahoma and Rachel is taking me to a party at her friend Amanda’s house. Actually, I’m taking her in the Impala ‘cause I know she’ll probably get boozed. Hopefully taking on some responsibility keeps me from being too dumb tonight.

We’ve gotten a late start today. Last night was fun. Rachel and I spent most of the day hiking, me having to stop a lot due to having a chainsmoker’s lungs, but we hung out at a canyon during the sunset. It was better than I could’ve imagined. After the sun went down, we spent a while in my car before driving home… Must’ve been way past midnight.

Her friend’s place is one that overlooks the water and I’m pretty sure we passed it on the river a few days ago. It’s two stories and there are a ton of cars parked in the driveway and in the street. The scene almost reminds me of the very few high school parties I’d been to and I’m hoping things don’t get too out of control.

“Her parents are gone til mid-August,” Rachel explains as I turn the car off, “so it’s just gonna be a bunch of college kids.”

“Sounds like a disaster,” I remark, not being able to see through the dark windows of the house as we get out of the car, “but I’m down.” I nearly forget to lock the doors before we head in.

~~~

There are surprisingly only ten or so kids milling about the house, the rest out back on the patio and in the yard. Huge glass windows on the back wall look out towards the river, flickering in the dusk. What a view. I’d love to live in a place like this eventually.

Rachel knows everyone at the party by name, introducing me to all of them. It’s a weird experience, a bit awkward but she’s having fun. Most kids are drinking and smoking but I avoid it for once; I’ve probably only smoked five times this week and it’s been quite the headache, but I’m making progress.

I find myself outside talking to Marcus, the guy who pulled up in his car the night I first came to Salida. He’s got a flask of whisky but seems to be holding it pretty well.

“So, how did you and Rachel meet?” He asks me, sounding awfully similar to Matt or Rachel’s dad with his questions.

“Oh, you know. Classes, mutual friends. We study together a lot and hang out with the same people.” I watch Rachel and some of her friends throwing a football back and forth in the yard, laughing up a storm.

“Right, college. I’m taking a gap year but hopefully I’ll be up in Boulder this fall.”

“Sweet, man. What are you studying?”

“Biology, I think. We’ll see how it goes first semester and maybe I’ll stick with it, maybe I won’t.” It’s relatable. I’m surprised most people don’t end up changing majors at some point.

“That’s real interesting. I don’t think I’d have the patience for labs and stuff all day.”

“You know, maybe I won’t either. But I’d like to try,” he takes a swig of liquor, smiling a surprisingly sober smile.

I appreciate Marcus. He’s easygoing, doesn’t seem to get hung up on anything. Most of Rachel’s friends are like that, so are a lot of our school friends. I’m beginning to dig this crowd.

“I feel you, man. I’ve wanted to do something with writing or books since high school and I thought journalism was the way to go, but I’m switching to education next semester.”

“That’s a real important job, good on you, horse guy. Maybe you and Rach will be teacher buddies, same school, lunch breaks in the teacher’s lounge… You know, all that jazz.”

It’s a funny thought. Somehow, I can’t imagine Rachel on the administrative side of things with how… “free-spirited” she can be.

“Maybe. I know I’d like that.” It’s a long way off and I don’t want to think about it yet, but the future is fun to imagine.

“Rachel was always good at a lot of things,” Marcus starts, his brown eyes wistful. “She was my first girlfriend back in sophomore year…”

“Oh, shoot, man, I’m sorry-”

Marcus cuts me off with a laugh but I feel awkwardness sinking into my stomach.

“Don’t worry about it, dude! That was eons ago. It was such a kid thing… holding hands around school, not really hanging out on weekends, just a title. No hard feelings here.” I can tell he means it and relax a bit.

“Yeah, I get that. Sounds like high school.”

“For sure, man. But yeah, you’ve got a special girl, Ponyboy Curtis. For the longest time, ever since Mitch, that old spark in her eyes was missing. Until you came along.” I feel myself wanting to hide my face.

“She came home for the summer absolutely glowing. Telling stories, going out with all of us more, it was like old times when we were all young and dumb and innocent. You’ve been great for her.” Hearing that from another person just makes me feel self-conscious. I don’t think I have much of an effect on anyone, let alone someone as interesting as Rachel. I’ve always thought she was so much cooler and, well, better than I am.

“I wonder if that’s true… I don’t know what she sees in me, to be honest.”

“Don’t think that way, kid. You’re great. You live up to all the stories.”

“I hope she only told you the good ones…”

“Pink hair?”

“Damn it!”

~~~

It’s nearly ten and a few kids have already headed home. The rest of us are sitting inside to avoid mosquitos and I’m trying to limit Rachel’s alcohol intake. She’s gonna have to fake sobriety to her parents and I do _not_ want to get caught up in that.

We’re sitting around the living room and it feels like I’m on campus again: joking about whatever, telling stories, just living it up. It’s chill and since it’s Amanda’s parents’ house, no one’s smoking weed anymore.

Rachel’s telling a story about how her bike got stuck in a tree down at school when headlights flash through the front windows.

“Shit, Mandy, those your parents?” 

“No, that’s a Camaro. My parents don’t have a Camaro.”

Rachel stiffens and I wonder what’s up.

“Guys, it’s Mitch,” she’s barely audible but everyone groans.

“Oh, fuck that guy. Marcus, AJ, someone go tell him to get off my property.”

“Technically it’s your parents’ property-”

“Just go tell him to get out!”

Marcus and one of the other guys get up and head to the door, leaving it open as they go outside. The rest of us sit in relative silence, trying to hear what’s going on. I lean over to Rachel who’s looking down at her hands.

“Is that… the guy?”

“Yeah,” her voice is somber and suddenly an unknown emotion comes over me. Before I can place it, AJ and Marcus storm back inside, slamming the door. The Camaro pulls out of the driveway and zooms away down the street.

“Fuckin’ loser,” Marcus proceeds to cuss out the visitor, sitting back down next to Amanda. “He was mad at us for not inviting him.”

“Well, shit, does he really think we wanna be dropping acid in our parents’ houses?”

“Huh?” I exclaim out loud, turning heads.

“Yeah…” Rachel mutters. She’s sobered up a bit, literally and figuratively, in the past hour or so.

“Kid’s a junkie AND a dealer,” Marcus interjects, “I mean, most of us are junkies in some way, but that dude’s no good.”

“Yeah, remember December 1968?”

“Let’s not talk about 1968…” Rachel halts the conversation. Everyone seems to understand what she means and they change the subject. I note to ask about it later but I don’t really want to pry.

We spend the next hour or so talking memories, and even though I’m not a part of most of them I tell some greaser stories from back in the day. Rachel’s friends look at me a bit differently after hearing about my childhood but not in a bad way. I don’t talk about Johnny and Dal, though. Not tonight.

“I have a ton of old photos in my basement,” Rachel whispers to me, clinging to my right arm. “We should head out soon and look at some since you’re leaving tomorrow.”

“Shoot, that sounds fun. Might steal some for blackmail material.”

“Why is _that_ your first thought?”

~~~

I take my time saying goodbye to everyone and somehow it feels like we’ve all been friends for years already. It’s sad I won’t be seeing them for, well, a while after tonight, but I’m glad to have met them all. They’re weird and have problems but we all do. I think Rachel was right about me liking that crowd.

“Thanks for driving, Pony,” Rachel’s words are sleepy but sincere as she leans against the passenger side window of my car. “That was a lot of fun.”

I think of Mitch, what could’ve happened in ’68, but decide not to mention it.

“No problem. Did you see I went that whole party without smoking?”

“I did. But you smoked on the way there. And I’m pretty sure we all got secondhand. But whatever makes you feel… accomplished.”

She’s right. It’s a bad habit. I’ll try to get over it but I don’t want to. _At least I’m not selling acid to kids,_ I want to say but keep it to myself.

We manage to get inside without being questioned by Rachel’s parents. She’s not too drunk but I chalk it up to her being really, really good at acting sober. It’s kind of scary, I’m not gonna lie.

We’re in the basement and Rachel’s brought out a ton of old cardboard boxes. I don’t know where to start but she does.

“Alright, these are from elementary school. I’m not letting you see anything from earlier than that.”

“Aww, no baby Rachel?”

“No way. Not until we pass the one-year milestone.”

“Darn,”

We go through photos from birthdays, holidays, first and last days of school. It’s funny to see Matt pass up Rachel’s height in middle school and later their sister Paris. The three siblings look so different from each other, making me realize just how similar Darry and Soda and I are. It’s almost silly looking at the Henning kids side-by-side; they’re like a color gradient from dark-haired Paris down to Matt the blond. Rachel’s the definition of a happy medium. I catch myself looking back and forth between her and the pictures, admiring her dark blue eyes. That particular color always used to scare me, bringing back memories of Steve Randle’s angry outbursts, but I like it on her.

I start rifling through an unopened box on my left until Rachel makes a comment.

“Oh, those are Paris’. There probably aren’t many of me in there but you can look through them anyway. I know she’s a lot prettier than I am.”

I don’t say anything as I start sifting through the photos. Honestly, I don’t agree with Rachel. Especially as a teenager, Paris just looks… _intense._ Almost like a greaser girl. Her long, dark hair and thick eyeliner remind me of girls like Evie and Sylvia, and-

It feels like something knocks all the air out of me as I look at the photo in my hands.

It’s Paris and…

“Rachel.”

“What’s up?”

“This picture… where did you get it?” I pass it over to her, my hands beginning to shake. _I’m asleep and this is a dream. A really weird dream. I’m going to wake up and-_

“Oh! Paris sent it to us back in… ’64 or ’65, right when she moved to Oklahoma. This is one of the guys she met, I don’t remember his name.”

“That’s…” I take the picture back as Rachel stares at me quizzically, “That’s _Dallas Winston._ ”

Silence.

“Oh, shit…” she swears under her breath, looking down. “Dallas… the guy who died? In the shootout?”

“Yeah, it’s him. Christ, your sister knew Dally? What the… what the _hell…”_ In the photo, Paris and Dally are smirking at the camera. They look like Bonnie and Clyde. A shiver runs through me and I still don’t believe what I’m seeing.

“Come to think of it, she mentioned one of her friends getting shot up by the cops… That would make sense, then.”

I’m covering my mouth with a hand, still studying the picture. It’s unmistakably Dally. The white blonde hair. Piercing blue eyes the only color in the frame. I can’t recall ever seeing Rachel’s sister hanging out in Tulsa but here they are, taking a photo together over five years ago, not long before he died.

Something comes over me before I can think it through.

“C-can I have this?” I look at Rachel for the first time since seeing the photo.

“I guess that’d be okay. We have enough pictures of her, I think.”

“Thanks, I just… I don’t think I have any pictures of Dallas.”

“Then go right ahead, take it. I… I’m really sorry about your friend, Ponyboy.”

I don’t know how to respond to that. I still can’t believe what I’ve seen.

“I think I should get some sleep, long drive tomorrow.”

“Okay. Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”

~~~

I have breakfast with Rachel’s family and it’s real nice. Time’s going to be on my side on the way home with the zone difference and I’m not in too much of a rush. We all talk a lot before I decide to hit the road, it’s hard to leave.

“You’re a good kid, Curtis,” Matt says after pulling me aside. “We all know how my sister needs a good influence these days.”

I think of December 1968.

“I guess so. Thanks for being… chill.”

“You’re easy to be chill with. Hope I’ll see you around sometime.”

“You too, man.”

I’m not looking forward to saying goodbye to Rachel. We’re hanging out in the driveway after her brother and parents go inside, I’ve already thrown my bag into the car.

“This week went by so fast,” she breathes, dark eyes shining. Marcus’ words echo in my mind. _Absolutely glowing._ She’s about a million times happier than when we first met, it’s hard to believe. Is it really because of me?

“Yeah, really.” The Colorado sky is like a sapphire as we look up into it. It’s amazing how the colors are so different with each passing hour.

“I’m going to miss you,” Rachel turns to me, suddenly vulnerable.

“It’s only a month. Then we’ll be back with all our gang and getting into trouble all over again. A month is nothing.”

She looks thoughtful, short hair fluttering in the sudden breeze. I reach out and brush it out of her eyes.

“One month without you fuckin’ sucks,” she curses. I lean in kiss her dirty mouth.

It’s amazing how not even three months ago I was on the edge of a panic attack trying to do this same thing, awkwardly fumbling in the process. Now it’s our normal and I wonder what I’ve been missing out on in the past 18 years. It’s both new and comfortable and for a moment I forget about the weight of the Polaroid in my back pocket.

“Make that last for a month, will you?” I say after pulling back. She laughs and hugs me tight.

“See you around, horse guy.”


	7. Bad Trip

It’s early spring, 1971.

This year there have been more parties. More fun. I make it work with my grades, even since changing majors. I can afford a B here or there, it’s not like I won’t graduate.

Rachel changes majors too. We end up switching, basically. She’s journalism now.

It’s a three-day weekend and Soda, Steve and Two-Bit are visiting campus. Evie and Kathy are with them, Soda still single. I’m not surprised. He’s hoping to meet someone at the bars but I’m not sure that’s the best place to pick up well-meaning girls.

I haven’t quite kicked the smoking habit yet. My brothers can testify I’m not as bad as I was in high school, but I’m still working on it. Rachel has started flat-out refusing to kiss me if I’ve had a smoke but keeps coming back from parties with her hair smelling like weed. It’s gotten annoying.

Our group is closer than before, Mary and Will are together now. After seeing how I succeeded with Rachel he decided to go for it and I’m glad. I wonder what might happen if anyone in our circle ends their relationship, it makes me worry. I don’t want to give up any of my friendships. Will and I are roommates this year and it’s too perfect that we’re dating a pair of roommates, for a lot of reasons.

Rachel and I are great. It’s pretty low-key most of the time, completely void of drama like I used to hear from Soda all the time. We both talk too much, which is cause for arguments, but they’re never a big deal. We care a lot for each other and it shows.

Will and I are getting ready to meet up with everyone else at our favorite bar downtown, the gang waiting in Steve’s car outside. Kathy and Evie have been with the girls. I decide to grease my hair back for the first time in what feels like a year and it looks completely different now. Before styling it, my hair is nearly to my shoulders. It’s starting to get a bit too long for me, if I’m being honest. I think the length it was at back in the fall was my favorite. I’m wearing a black T-shirt, jeans, and the leather jacket I got for Christmas. I’m the “classic” one in our group, not really having caught onto many styles of the new decade yet. That’s fine by me, gotta stick to my roots, I guess.

I begrudgingly brush my teeth, knowing the bar is going to be filled with smoke anyway. Will slaps the bathroom doorframe, making me jump.

“Pony, we’re already late. Don’t worry about your teeth, you’re not a girl.”

“Hmm?” I mumble around my toothbrush.

“Not giving blowjobs tonight, I hope-”

I swear at Will after spitting out the toothpaste, throwing a towel at his head.

“That’s disgusting, dude.” I push past him and head out of our apartment.

“It’s true, though.”

I shake my head and laugh.

~~~

Steve and Soda are in the front as per usual and I’m stuck between Will and Two-Bit in the back seat. The greasers have, for the most part, stayed greasers, but some fashions change regardless. Two-Bit’s sideburns are longer than I’ve ever seen them and Steve’s got a gaudy patterned jacket on. Soda’s more my style, his hair longer than it used to be but slicked back like mine. We’re even in almost the same exact clothes.

“You guys crashing at a hotel tonight?” I ask, trying to ignore how cramped I am between two guys way bulkier than I am.

“Yup,” Steve answers while changing lanes. “It’d be a bad idea to drive home after what’s gonna go down tonight.”

“How are you gonna get to the hotel?” Will asks the question before I can.

“We can walk. Might get a ticket in the morning for leaving the car downtown but it’ll be worth it.” Two-Bit answers this time.

“With what money?” I ask, elbowing him.

“I’ll come up with it, kid. I always do.”

“You still haven’t gotten me an eighteenth birthday present, Two-Bit.”

“Ah, shit. No, I did get you something, but I forgot to bring it. Spring break, and it’ll be in your hands.” I don’t believe him for a second.

“Sure, man.”

~~~

The bar is dimly lit (duh, it’s a bar), a smoky haze of nicotine and conversation filling the air. Zeppelin is blasting through the speakers and Two-Bit’s already off the walls, not even one beer in. Soda, Steve and Will tell me they’re going to go play pool in the back and I tell them I’ll catch up. Rachel’s talking to me but I can’t quite hear her.

“What?” I yell, leaning down into her face.

“I said, I like your hair!” She brushes a loose strand off of my forehead, smiling.

“Thanks! Wanna come with me and the guys?”

“Maybe later, I want to catch up with Kathy and Evie.” I let her go find them and head back to the pool tables.

After a few games of me and Will versus Steve and Soda, our girls come find us. Rachel’s just interested in the game but Evie and Mary are trying to bring us back to the dance floor.

“C’mon, Stevie, I haven’t seen you all night!”

“One more game, Eve. I’ll come find you.”

“You always say that!”

Everyone’s pretty sloshed at this point and Rachel’s insisted on buying me a beer, which is fine. I guess it’s alright to unwind a bit. She’s leaning over the table with me every time I go in for a play and it’s hard to keep my focus. I keep looking over to her in that cute blue crop top, her pupils dilating every time she looks up at me.

We finally decide to head back to the main room where the music is the loudest. Will and I hang out at the bar while everyone else is off losing it on the dance floor. I’m not really feeling that yet.

“You’ve changed a lot this year, man,” he says to me over the noise.

“Is that a good thing?”

“I think so. This time last year we never could’ve gotten you to come out to a place like this.” It’s true; I hadn’t been to a campus bar until this past fall.

“Yeah, guess you’re right. How are you and Mary?”

“Good, I think. Not sure how serious it is but it’s a good time.”

“Glad to hear it, man. I know how long you liked her…”

“Ah, cut it. Could say the same for you and Rach.” I feel my face flush and hide my expression by taking a sip of my beer. Almost a year in and I’m still flustered.

“I guess. It’s going really well, never would’ve even gotten to this point if it weren’t for you. Things are pretty low-key but I like it.”

“You give me too much credit, kid. It’s all you.” That’s what everyone keeps saying, that somehow, I’m such a “cool guy” with “charisma” or whatever but I just don’t see it. Except for right now since I have my hair greased back.

We talk for a while then decide to join the rest of our group. It’s not the biggest crowd I’ve seen here but it’s enough to make it hard to find people, especially in the low light.

“There’s my kiddo Ponyboy!!!” Before I have time to react, Two-Bit has me in a headlock. Being far more sober than him I’m able to shove him off, laughing and cursing. The people around us give a few confused looks and I remember we aren’t in Tulsa at the moment.

“Jeez, man, you can’t just _attack_ people here,” I jab him in the arm with my elbow and realize how much taller I’ve gotten than good old Keith Mathews in the past few years.

“I do what I want, kid! And no one ever got hurt by it – no one who didn’t deserve it, anyway!”

“Go drink some water, Two-Bit.” I push him away with a smirk and look for Sodapop.

I find him after the song ends and “Time of the Season” by the Zombies comes on, adding to the trippy haze of things. Soda’s got his back to me and as I come upon him, I notice he’s with a girl.

I’m about to say something but they’re making out, so I wait awkwardly a few feet away. Really awkwardly.

“Well, Sodapop, you really-” as they break apart, I feel my guts do a backflip.

“Pony?!” the girl squeaks.

It’s Rachel.

The girl my brother’s kissing is Rachel.

Soda turns around looking high as a kite.

“Oh, hey Pone, what’s-”

“What the FUCK are you doing?!” I shove Soda out of the way to get to my girlfriend, seeing red. It feels like I’m about to catch on fire, and I’ve _been_ on fire before.

“Pony, I thought, I-I…”

I don’t know what I’m thinking or doing but I grab Rachel by her wrist and forcibly pull her towards the door, not noticing or caring how rough I’m being with her. I have no idea what the _fucking hell_ is going on and I’m going to get an answer.

We’re outside in the cold night and my eyes are burning.

“Rachel, what the hell were you doing? My brother, really? _Really?_ ”

“P-Pony, I… I…” A tiny part of me hates to see her cry but she deserves it. I can barely look at her but when I do it looks like there’s something seriously wrong with her eyes. They’re bloodshot and her pupils are dilated even under the fluorescent lights.

“You _what?_ You thought I wouldn’t find out? That’s so goddamn stupid. I was _right there._ And if I hadn’t caught you, you guys-”

“I thought he was _you._ ”

I blink for a moment, not quite processing the information. My skin’s burning so bad that I swear there’s steam coming off of me in the cold air.

“You _what?_ ” I say again, not caring that I’m repeating myself. I thought things were going great, that we’d have no problems, maybe we could even-

“You h-heard me. I couldn’t really see that great and he didn’t talk a lot and I really, t-truly thought Soda was you, until you came over…” The remorse in her voice starts to hurt but it doesn’t hurt as bad as seeing the two people I trust the most doing something so _shitty_ to me.

“I don’t know if I believe you.”

“I know you don’t. If I really loved you I would’ve known, I wouldn’t have been so… idiotic… I’m sorry. B-but if it’s still not okay, I… I understand. I’m sorry for ruining a good thing, Pony…”

God, I want to believe her. But part of me, the trust issues, can’t. Something she says finally clicks.

“Did you say, _if_ you loved me?”

“Y-yeah… I really really do think I love you, but do you really think if I did, I could mess up _that_ bad?”

I finally look up and Rachel’s eyes are _seriously_ screwed up. It’s kind of scary and I wonder if alcohol was the only thing she’s been partaking in tonight. I think about what I said to Will earlier about things being pretty low-key…

“I’m not going to let you get off easy, but you know, maybe you wouldn’t have mistaken me for my brother if we spent more time together.”

“H-huh?” Rachel’s leaning against the wall, about to topple over, so I cautiously step forward and put an arm around her.

“If you can’t tell I’m me when it’s really dark or loud somewhere, I think we have some work to do.” I’m trusting her in this moment and I’m terrified, but I like to think I know Rachel. She wouldn’t do this to me, not on purpose. I’m still fucked up about Soda but right now I don’t think my girlfriend is lying to me.

“I-I think you’re right.” There’s some relief in her eyes but I notice they’re darting around like crazy. It’s worse than an anxiety attack.

“Do you want to go home?”

“Y-yeah, I do. Can you w-walk me?”

“I can, but I’m gonna go back to my place.”

“What about Will and Mary? And-”

“They can figure it out on their own. I’ll deal with Soda in the morning.” _He’d better have a good explanation or I’ll kick his ass. Hard._

_~~~_

“I’m sorry, Ponyboy, I didn’t realize you two were _that_ serious-”

“You’re kidding me. You’re _kidding me,_ Sodapop! I drove twelve hours to see her over the summer and you don’t even think we’re ‘that serious’. What the _hell,_ man? She thought you were _me!”_

“Shit, kid, that sounds like a problem-”

“I’m AWARE! Jesus Christ, Soda, how can you fuck me over like that?” I’m resisting the urge to punch my brother right in that sorry face of his. I never thought he’d be capable of something like this.

“I… You know, I don’t know. I was crossed out of my mind last night and I really don’t have an excuse.” He goes to put a hand on my shoulder but I step back before he can. There’s hurt in his eyes but it’s nothing compared to how I’m feeling.

“No, you don’t. I don’t know if I can ever trust you again, dammit.”

“I know. I deserve that. Shit, Pony, I’m sorry. Please don’t blame it on Rachel.”

“So you willingly took advantage of her, huh?”

“I didn’t know she thought I was you…”

“Bullshit. Go home before I beat your ass, Soda. Maybe Darry’ll do it for me once he finds out.”

I don’t watch as my brother turns around and walks back to Steve’s car. It’s nearly noon on Sunday morning and I’m outside of Rachel’s apartment, realizing too late that she must have heard the entire conversation. Heading inside, I don’t look back.

“Are you okay?” I hear Rachel call from the couch. She’s wrapped up in blankets, eyelids still heavy from the night before.

“No,” I mutter and sit down next to her, staring at the ceiling. “Soda’s now my ‘most hated greaser’ and I never thought anyone would beat Steve for that title.” In another circumstance we would’ve laughed but the air is thick with sadness.

“It’ll be okay eventually.” Rachel lays her head on one of the couch cushions and I wish she’d lay against me instead. I think she’s still scared because of last night.

“Hope so. But it won’t be the same.”

“You have a right to be upset, Ponyboy…”

I cast her a sidelong glance at such an obvious statement.

“Hell, Rach, are _you_ okay?”

“Better. But not okay, not yet.”

We sit in silence for a while, the TV off and the blinds closed.

“I need to tell you something.” Rachel sits up suddenly and I jolt.

“What is it?”

I listen to the story of December 1968 and by the end I’m holding Rachel’s hand so tightly I don’t think I’ll ever let go.


	8. Green Country Posy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> green country, nickname. the northeast region of oklahoma.  
> posy, noun. a small bunch of flowers.

Rachel turns 22 on New Year’s Eve, 1972. She’s the one who buys us champagne since it’s still seven months til I’m 21. Being young kinda blows but I’m in no rush to get old.

My new apartment is on the east side of downtown Tulsa, in an okay area but really nothing special. I finally scraped up enough cash from working at the university library during the school year and the one at home over summers to move out of Darry’s place. It’s a nice change of pace but strange to be back home but not with my brothers. At least they’re still close by.

Sodapop and I are talking again but after what happened back in ’71, things haven’t been the same. It feels like the three of us have switched places – I’m now the one who gets upset with Soda while Darry is the mediator. I wonder what it would be like if our parents were still around.

In a week I’m starting up student teaching at Central Middle School in Broken Arrow. It’s only a twenty-minute drive from Tulsa and I’m glad to not be returning to any one of my old schools. The teachers either loved me or hated me back then and I still know a ton of kids who go there. It would be too weird.

“That’s enough phone book for tonight,” I tell Rachel as she’s been leafing through it for the past hour. Ever since finding that photo of her sister and Dallas back in ’70 we’ve been keeping an eye out for any mention of a Paris Henning – to no avail. Rachel thinks she might have changed her last name since then, so whenever she gets the chance she goes through the phone book, name by name, to find anyone named Paris. There have only been two so far in Tulsa, it’s an uncommon name, and neither turned out to be her sister. It’ll be my job to keep a lookout here since I won’t be on campus this semester but I’ve given up hope.

“I just want to find her,” she complains, kicking the book off the couch. It’s an obvious statement but I know she’s grieving.

“I know, me too.”

I look at the clock and it’s already past midnight. 1973. The year we graduate. Become real adults. For some ridiculous reason, prime number years freak me out. I’m not quite sure why.

~~~

So, The 5th Dimension was right. The planets must really be aligning now considering what’s happening this year. It’s the age of Aquarius after all.

I’m leaving the middle school after the school day ends, it’s early March. I finish helping Mrs. Robinson, the teacher I’m shadowing, grade papers and am in the parking lot when I hear someone calling out names.

“Kevin, Aaron! I’m over here.”

Her voice is similar in timbre to Rachel’s and I reflexively look towards the car it came from. Alarms sound in my head when I see.

It’s her. A dark-haired woman is picking up two middle school kids from basketball practice, her window rolled down.

It’s Paris. She’s calling their names. I notice I’m staring and head to my car, unsure of what I should do.

At first, I’m confused. Middle school kids? Rachel said Paris would be 25 this year, it’s impossible that she had kids at 14. She’s probably just doing a favor for a friend-

Shoot. If that’s the case, this might have been my only chance to talk to her.

I curse myself but the first thing I do when I get home is pick up the phone.

~~~

“Are you sure it was her?” Rachel’s voice is groggy through the receiver as I’ve woken her up from an after-class nap. That’s the least of my worries right now.

“As sure as I can be,” I have the old Polaroid in my left hand, “given what I know.”

“So she lives in Broken Arrow?”

“That would make the most sense.”

“We’ve been looking in the wrong damn phone book this whole time, then.”

At her statement I notice that the white pages on my coffee table are missing, realizing Rachel must’ve taken them back to campus after visiting for spring break.

“Guess so. Looks like it’s up to me to figure this out, then.”

“How are you gonna do that?”

“No idea.”

~~~

During my commute the morning after first seeing Paris, I think. The radio has been turned off since the night before, I don’t want anything to cloud my thoughts.

_Kevin and Aaron…_ There’s a Kevin in one of the seventh grade English classes I teach. For a moment I wonder if I should ask him about her but that’s probably the creepiest thing I could possibly do. It’s already uncomfortable that I’m only eight or so years older than most of these kids, I can’t let this personal stuff affect my job.

_I call the middle school gig my job, but it isn’t, technically. I’m interviewing here and at the high school in April along with a few other districts, but nothing is for sure yet. If Paris is in Broken Arrow, it might serve me well to stay local…_

_Maybe it’s inevitable that personal stuff will affect my job. I know Rachel is looking into working out of Tulsa after graduation so we can start living together. Perhaps it’s fair that I let my choices center around her like she does for me…_

_I don’t think there’s any reason Rachel and I are going to fall through at this point. Since making the changes we did during sophomore year, everything’s been going well. After we work for a few years, save up cash, maybe get a nicer place, we can think about the future…_

Each of these tangents occupy my mind until before I know it, I’m at school. Turning off the car after parking, I sigh. I still have no idea what I’m going to do about anything.

~~~

I’m about to leave for the day when my mind says “screw it”.

“Hey, question.”

Mrs. Ursula Robinson, not more than thirty years old, looks up from her desk.

“Yes?”

“You live, in Broken Arrow, right?” It’s a horrifically awkward question but I need answers and can’t mince words. The expression on her face makes me wince.

“Why do you ask, Mr. Curtis?”

Being referred to by that title in a school setting feels strange to me. Too formal.

“I have to be honest; I’m looking for a phone number. I’m from out of town and I would really appreciate it if you could let me borrow a telephone book. If not, that’s okay.”

Her expression relaxes and so do I.

“That shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll try to remember to bring one in tomorrow. Whose number are you searching for?”

I try not to groan at this and find it within myself to tell the truth.

“Look, I know it sounds crazy, but… a long-lost family member. I’m dead serious.”

* * *

Ponyboy picks me up from campus for the weekend just so I can make a phone call. We hang out before and after the fact, but as I dial the phone number he’s circled in the Broken Arrow white pages I feel the gravity of the moment.

She’s listed as Paris Henning; no name change. The line rings and I curl the telephone cord around my finger, eyeing Pony nervously from across the room. He gives a flat smile.

“Hello?”

I frown. The voice on the other end is that of a child, not my sister.

“Hi, uh, I’m looking for Paris Henning.”

“Oh. Okay, give me a minute.” After what felt like more than a minute, another person speaks.

“Hi, this is Paris.”

I feel the breath hitch in my throat. I’m not prepared.

“Hi. This is Rachel.”

“Rachel?”

“Your sister.”

The call is silent and I wonder if she’s going to hang up. My eyes dart to Pony, his sweet face curious. I honestly don’t know any more than he does at this point.

“Jeez… Rachel, how did you get this number?”

“It’s a long story. I’m in Tulsa right now.”

“What? Why?” her voice is hoarse and deeper than I remember, but it’s undoubtedly her. After nearly ten years of not seeing her, I can still picture Paris’ gray eyes flashing.

“Like I said, long story. I’m graduating from OSU this year… Um, do you think we can meet up sometime?”

Another silence.

“Uh, maybe. Maybe in the summer, I’m really busy this time of year… Wait, do Mom and Dad know I’m here? What about Matt?”

“No. Just me.”

“…Good. We need to talk before they can even know I’m still alive.” I wonder why she’s being so dramatic and why she’s deciding to trust _me_. Probably because she has no choice at this point...

“Okay… can I give you my number?”

“If you tell me how you got mine.”

“Fine. So, my boyfriend and I came across an old picture of you and a guy from Tulsa and he said he knew the guy, so we thought you might still be in town… Um, my guy’s from around here. And he’s been working at the middle school out in Broken Arrow and told me he saw you, and we tracked down a phone book and-”

“He knew Dallas?”

“He did…”

“Rachel, what’s your boyfriend’s name?”

“Uh, it’s Ponyboy Curtis-”

“We need to meet in person. Bring him with you. I’ll call you in a month and we can figure out when.”

“Um, okay.”

* * *

The entire gang comes to my college graduation and I don’t realize it until Two-Bit, Soda and Steve are yelling above the crowd when my name is called. I take it in stride (literally, heh) and smile as I walk across the stage.

It’s not as much of a to-do as high school commencement was, which I’m grateful for. No laundry list of parties to attend or ceremonies to sit through, just the one. Darry and Soda meet Rachel’s family and my brothers think they’ll be our in-laws soon. I don’t doubt they will be eventually, but that’s still a way off.

In late May I help Rachel move out of her parents’ house. Many of her high school friends have left Salida as well but we catch up with Marcus and a few others who haven’t. We give them our phone number and I’m glad to have so many connections these days. Growing up, my neighborhood was my whole world. After four years of college things have finally started to change.

It’s June now. The first week of the month is busier than I would’ve imagined, and even though school’s out there’s something to do every day. Resumes, final interviews, helping Rachel move, it’s a lot.

I get the call from Broken Arrow High School on a Thursday. Rachel’s trying to listen as I’m on the phone with the principal about my interviews. I shoo her away, trying not to give away the news but I can feel the smile growing on my face. I turn to her right after hanging up.

“So, I start teaching high school English in the fall. No big deal.”

Darry decides to throw a party for me at his place and everyone shows up. It’s so strange how close my oldest brother and I are now and how comparatively distant Sodapop is. Ever since ’71, things haven’t been the same. Darry and I have long term girlfriends and Soda is still out on his own. It’s not a bad thing but it’s part of some deeper issues he has.

I’m dreading July. Although finally turning 21 will be nice, I have a terrible feeling for some reason. We’re meeting Paris on the 14th and Rachel seems more and more uneasy the closer we get to it.

~~~

It takes a few minutes for Paris Henning to come to the door.

Her house is a lot like the one I grew up in: chain link fence, one story, in a run-down neighborhood. I’m hoping my newly-earned degree will give me some upward mobility once I end up looking for a house.

We exchange pleasantries and sit together in the living room. It’s quiet but I can hear music playing in another room. I don’t comment on it.

“You’ve gotten so old,” Paris and Rachel are talking and I’m not sure what to do with myself. The house smells like my room back at Darry’s always did – like smoke and dust.

“Well, it has been, like, ten years.” Rachel’s tone is guarded. I know what it’s like to not trust family.

“Listen… I thought the money I’d earned from working back home would be enough to get by with when I first got here, but things got out of hand. I didn’t want to bring the family into this, my life is my problem. I even tried moving to Texas where the economy’s better, but I needed to be around friends, I needed _some_ support.”

“Is he here?” I see Rachel’s eyes narrow as she asks the question.

“Who?”

“The kid who answered the phone when I called back in March.”

Paris’ shoulders slump and I wonder what they’re even talking about. This is all news to me.

“I’ll be right back.” The older sister leaves the room and I turn to face Rachel.

“Those kids from the middle school aren’t hers, are they?”

“No, that’s impossible. I just-” she breaks off as Paris reenters the room with a child at her side. Something clicks in my brain and my entire worldview shatters.

“Austin, this is my sister and her friend Ponyboy. Can you say hello to them?”

The kid doesn’t look older than seven, white-blond hair obscuring dark eyes. He lifts up a hand and waves timidly, standing closely by Paris.

“Is he your...?” Rachel looks like she wants to stand up but doesn’t.

“He’s my son, yes.”

No one needs to ask who the father is.

* * *

My sister sends Austin back to his room and he scurries away. My mind is reeling as I rethink everything I know about the past eight, nine years. Did she really have a _kid_ and not think to tell anyone?

“I didn’t want to burden mom and dad. Besides, we know how they felt about me dropping out.” Paris looks tired. I always admired her when we were younger and it’s weird to be sitting in the same room as the girl who taught me to read while I have a bachelor’s degree and she has nothing.

“We would’ve helped you regardless,” I look around the room, devoid of photos or decorations, “you oughta move back to Colorado with them. I’m sure they’ll help.”

Paris coughs before answering. Inside I’m seething at the fact that another person close to me has fallen into nicotine addiction.

“I can’t. And… I might be putting Austin into foster care soon.”

“Why? We can figure it out and you won’t have to, please, don’t…”

“Rachel, I’m starting to think something’s really not right with me. Physically. I don’t want him to have such a hopeless role model-”

“You’re not hopeless. Stop saying that.”

“I’m not so sure. I’m just trying to update you on what’s been going on, you don’t have to agree with it but you can’t change my mind. If you know anyone in the area who might be better for him, I want you to let me know.”

I push down the first thought that comes into my head.

“Can we at least talk more about what happened? About how you got here?” 

The next hour or so is filled with stories of the years I’d missed, of Paris after she left Salida. She’d recognized Ponyboy’s name when I first told her, since Dallas Winston had mentioned him and she’d never forgotten the name. Apparently, she had met Dallas around New Year’s of 1965, when the photo I have was taken. She also shows us another Polaroid from the same night as the other one. At the time he hadn’t been seeing anyone, having recently broken up with Sylvia Stone, who Pony is familiar with. Apparently, Sylvia was the one who helped Paris get settled in Broken Arrow after returning from Texas. They became close friends after Dallas’ death and it reaffirms my belief that women are stronger together than against one another. Before that, Austin was born in October of 1965 and I do the easy math. They’ve been roughing it alone ever since, with the help of some friends.

Pony doesn’t talk much, just listening to all that’s said between us. It’s a wonder he cares at all, but that’s why I like him. Well, actually, he does have a reason to care, as all this involves his late friend… The coincidence just feels like some outlandish, made-up scenario, but it’s too real to deny. It was hard to notice, but Austin has my eyes.

On the way home, a Simon and Garfunkel ballad plays over the car radio. Pony turns up the volume and we don’t speak, absorbing the lyrics and chords that mingle with our own unspoken thoughts.


	9. Morning Glory

_Spring 1974_

Dawn light filters through the curtains as I open my eyes. I can tell it’s around 7 but today is the first Friday I’ve had off work in a while, so I decide to go back to sleep. I’m nearly out when a drawer slamming makes me snap awake.

I look over at Pony who’s buttoning up his dress shirt, not even realizing the noise he’s making. Must be used to getting ready once I’ve already left.

“You woke me up,” I mutter, rolling over onto my side to face away from him. I pull the blankets up to my eyes, annoyed.

“Sorry,” I hear him say and try to fall asleep again. After a minute or so I feel the mattress sink and wish he’d just leave already. I’m not a morning person.

“See you later,” I hear him say as he leans over me and kisses the top of my head. He can’t see it but I’m smiling into the blankets.

~~~

I end up getting out of bed not too long after, anyway. Visiting hours at the hospital start at 9 and I want to get there before most people start showing up. I tend to be comfortable around strangers but hospitals scare me and I’d rather not be there during peak grieving hours.

Ponyboy doesn’t know what I’m doing today or what’s been happening with my sister, which in hindsight probably wasn’t very smart of me. With how things are going, I’m going to have to talk with him sooner rather than later.

One thing we really have going for us in our relationship is that we each have our own cars. My parents let me bring the one Matt and I bought back in high school down to Oklahoma ever since my junior year of college and it’s been a lifesaver. Pony and I work in different towns and it just makes everything easier.

Paris is at a hospital in the suburbs, not far from the high school where Pony works at. Most of the drive is just his route to work, which I’ve memorized by now from when we take lunch breaks together. It’s nice to live with your best friend but it’s a relief to be alone for once. I’ve also been missing all of our other friends more and more since we’ve mostly gone our separate ways. Maybe we can get the gang back together over the summer sometime.

Pony’s friends from home are all great to us. Most weekends we end up at his oldest brother’s place, just catching up and hanging out. It’s been a bit awkward between me and Sodapop, but we’ve talked a few times. I still feel terrible every time I think of what happened between us and what Pony must think whenever he sees us talking. I like to believe I’ve gained his trust back but I’m not sure. We don’t talk about it.

It takes me about ten minutes from parking in the lot to make it up to Paris’ hospital room. I check in at the desk right at 9, this being my second visit since my sister’s been admitted. A resigned sadness weighs on my shoulders as I enter her room.

Paris is hooked up to one of those breathing masks that just make you look like death. I’m astonished that she’s in this state at just 25 years old, not much older than myself. Apparently, it’s late stage lung cancer, likely from smoking as well as other poor health factors. I’m no doctor but it wouldn’t surprise me if depression played into it.

“Hi,” I say flatly, making my way across the room to sit in the chair next to her bed. I turn it to face her and sit down, wondering how we got this point.

“It’s good to see you,” she responds quietly. I’m not sure I should believe her after all the years I thought she was gone forever.

“You too.”

We talk about her sickness. It’s terminal and I’m not surprised, but it feels like my heart’s in two. I almost wish she’d died before I could’ve seen her in this state, but I know that’s selfish of me.

“Have you told Mom and Dad?” I ask. I haven’t said anything to them since finding her.

“Not yet. I will later today.”

“Why today?”

Paris looks at me with an unreadable expression, likely due to the mask obscuring her face.

“I need to tell them what’s going to happen to Austin.”

“You mean the foster home?”

Paris closes her eyes for a moment then opens them again, staring at the wall.

“He’s been there for a month. I’ve seen him twice since then and I can tell how hard this is for him-”

“Well, what did you expect? He’s losing both parents before he even turns 10.”

My sister’s eyes flash and I know I should’ve kept my mouth shut.

“I know that. But he’s not great around other kids. He’s so shy and gets upset so easily… Rachel, he needs really good parents. Role models. I couldn’t even do that for him, and I’m his mom.”

It feels like my heart skips a beat as what I’ve been anticipating is finally coming to fruition.

“Do you really think-”

“You’re family. It makes me worry, thinking he could end up with some random people who don’t understand where he’s coming from. If he goes with you and Ponyboy he can have connections to both me _and_ his father… That’s more than I ever could have asked for, for him.”

I’m the one staring at the wall now. I think about money, about my life, about how I’ve only just turned 23, what we’re going to say to our parents. I know this is the right thing to do but I’m not sure I can handle it right now.

“Listen, I really want to help you and your son, but raising a kid is probably the last thing on my mind right now. Pony and I are only just starting out our careers and I wouldn’t say we’re very well-off at the moment… He’s only 21, for Christ’s sake.”

“I understand that. I had Austin at 17, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I’m just so worried that he’s going to turn out like Dallas unless he has good influences… Or like me. I don’t want him to end up like me.”

I know she’s right to be worried. I’m just not sure Pony and I can be good enough for this kid while we’re still mostly fending for ourselves in terms of money.

“I’ll have to talk to Pony about it. I just don’t think we can handle this right now, I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

A few more moments pass and I try to collect some semblance of a thought.

“Wait, don’t couples have to be married if they want to adopt?”

“I’m not sure but it might help.”

~~~

I’ve put this off for way too long.

It’s nearly four and I’m sitting on the couch in my apartment, staring at a blank TV screen. After leaving the hospital I spent the day on my own, going for a walk in the suburbs then getting lunch at some point. It wasn’t much, since my thoughts have been occupied by the obvious.

I want to adopt Austin. I really, truly want to help, but all logic says this would cause more problems than it would solve. Can we really afford to support a child? I don’t even know if we can afford to get married right now. Even then, we were going to save some extra money to go on vacation next summer. I feel like the few years of youth I have left are about to be snuffed out.

I’m not sure know how long I’ve been sitting there when the door opens. I don’t even look up.

“Hey! I’m really sorry for waking you up earlier, I want to make it up to you. Want to go out for dinner tonight?” Pony hangs up his jacket and comes over to the couch, sitting next to me. I try to smile but it comes across as a grimace.

“C’mon, you’re not still mad…”

“No, no, it’s not that. I need to talk to you about something…” I trail off, suddenly feeling guilty that I haven’t been communicating with him.

“What is it?”

I finally look up, Pony’s wide green eyes full of genuine concern. Sometimes I wonder how such a good person puts up with me. My gaze shifts back down to my hands.

“I’ve been talking with Paris more, she’s not doing very well… she’s sick, actually.”

“Oh… how bad is it?”

“I… they think she’s got lung cancer or something. Terminal.” I feel my stomach roil as I’m still aware of Pony’s own smoking habits.

“Really… at 25, that’s…” As cruel as it seems, I hope it scares him.

“I know. I visited her today and-”

“How long have you known?”

I curse inwardly.

“About two months.”

Pony sighs and I feel him shift away from me. It hurts.

“You know, you could’ve told me. You shouldn’t have to go through this alone, Rach.”

“I know, I just-”

“Why didn’t you?”

I open my mouth to speak but words don’t come right away. I’m not sure I have an answer, and the rare defensiveness in his tone scares me.

“I… I don’t know. I actually don’t know why. Maybe I just didn’t want to bother you.”

“It bothers me that you would think that. Does it bother you when I talk about my brothers?”

“No…”

“Well, there you go. Let’s talk about it now. What’s going on? What happened today?”

I can feel nervousness creeping its way into my veins.

“We talked. Austin – her son – is in foster care right now. She’s worried about him.”

“I would be, too. Darry was always so afraid of me and Soda getting taken away, being without family like that just seems… awful.”

“Yeah, she’s right, but,” I stop to breathe, “she wants us to take him in. Wants him to be raised by family.”

“What, you and me?”

“Yes.”

The silence sucks the air out of me. I really don’t know what to do and I’m not sure Pony does, either. He shifts back closer to me before finally speaking.

“I think we should,” he begins and I don’t know what I’m hearing.

“What?” This is probably the last thing I’d expected him to say. “You really think we can afford to take care of an eight-year old kid?”

“We could work it out. We have jobs, we have connections. Darry figured it out with me and Soda. I don’t think we should worry about that.”

“Okay, well besides the money, we’re… we’re kids ourselves, Pony… I mean, for God’s sake, you’re barely even old enough to drink, I just don’t know…”

He thinks for a moment and I wonder just what the hell we’re getting ourselves into.

“If I were the kid, I’d want to live with the closest thing to real family I could. My brothers and I managed just fine, and hell, Darry was younger than I am now. I think we should think about it.” He puts one hand on mine and I shrink back from it.

“I just don’t know… I really wanted us to have a good foundation with money and our jobs and everything before, like, _real_ adulthood… I mean, Paris says if we’re really serious, we should probably think about getting married soon.”

I cautiously glance over at Pony, trying to read him. He’s looking ahead with that deep-in-thought look on his face, eyes wistful.

“That’s not a bad thing,” he manages to say.

“But… it won’t be like what we imagined. Can’t afford it yet.”

All of the sweet little plans we’ve thought of surface in my mind, just out of reach. Maybe it’s selfish, but I still want them to happen.

“If it means we can keep a kid from going down the path of Dallas Winston, it’s worth it. Don’t you think so?”

He’s right.

“Yeah,” I sigh, putting my head on his shoulder.

“Maybe we can do something nice in a few years. When Soda was gonna marry Sandy, that was his plan. Get all the paperwork sorted out right away then have a nice ceremony a few years later when they could afford it… we could do that.”

“I suppose so,”

Pony puts an arm around me and I wonder how he’s taking all of this so well. I’m too overwhelmed to react.

“All that fanciness doesn’t mean a thing, anyway. I just wanna be with you forever.” He kisses my cheek and I finally melt into him.

“Me too,” I sigh.

* * *

I’m the first of my brothers to be getting married and I wonder how in hell that happened.

Darry and Elizabeth actually got engaged before Rachel and I did, but since at this point we’re planning on adopting Austin it’s best for us to tie the knot as soon as possible. Part of me is worried about rushing everything but I think we’ll be okay. Hopefully we’re more than okay.

I didn’t notice how “off” Rachel had been for the past few months until she finally told me about her sister being sick. I should’ve known from how she was acting. But ever since we talked, things have been better. We’ve been talking more in general, staying up way too late on work nights just to catch up. At this point I can’t even imagine living alone, Rachel’s just always so fun to talk to. I wonder if it’ll always feel that way.

“I don’t think I’m going to change my last name,” she says one night.

“Why not?”

“Your name isn’t on my degree, I don’t want it to be on my writing, either. I’m not giving you credit for _my_ work!”

“Well, when you put it like that…”

Darry is upset at first that we’re basically eloping, unsure about how quickly we’re taking things. I don’t blame him, but remember how young our parents were when they got married. I may or may not have neglected to tell him the main reason behind our actions, which might not be smart in the long run, but I figure I’ll have to ease him into _all_ the news…

I asked Two-Bit to be one of our witnesses and I’m honestly kicking myself for it. That guy, my best friend for all these years, is going to find some way to intervene. I’m just hoping it’s one of his more harmless pranks.

~~~

It’s early May and it’s sunny for the first time all week.

Rachel’s deep blue eyes reflect the sky as she looks up at me. Her long white dress is embroidered with small purple flowers and she’s more beautiful than I ever could have imagined. All my doubts melt away and I’m just… happy.

We’re leaving city hall, hands intertwined, just the two of us. Before we can even go down the steps, Rachel’s holding my face in her hands. I lean into her kiss but jump as a bright light flashes in my vision.

“WAHOO! Can you believe it? The kid’s married at 21!”

“Two-Bit…” I groan, letting go of Rachel and shoving Keith Mathews off the first step. He’s got some kind of funny looking camera and won’t quit taking photos. I have to shield my eyes from the flash.

“C’mon, Pone! You need something to commemorate this day by,” Two-Bit and Darry were the two witnesses we needed for our marriage certificate and I’d wondered why they’d rushed out so fast. His car door is open out in the street and I’m not sure why I didn’t see this coming.

I notice that more cars are pulling up to the curb once Two-Bit stops blinding me with his camera. Before I know it, tons of people are pouring out onto the sidewalk, cheering our names. Darry’s with them. I find Soda, Steve, even Tim and Curly Shepard in the crowd.

“I told you, Two-Bit, no party,” I laugh at him as we go to meet our friends. I feel myself turning red as all the attention is on me and Rachel.

“Party? Oh, no, Ponyboy, the party’s back at your brother’s place! How about you meet us over there in an hour?”

“An hour?” I turn to Rachel who’s already milling about the crowd, showing off her dress. “That’s best-case scenario.”

“I know how it be,” Two-Bit elbows me in the ribs and I curse him. “Just don’t be too long, kid.”

After a very strange sidewalk reception Rachel and I manage to make it to my car. The second I turn the key in the ignition, one of our favorite songs starts playing through the speakers.

“Pony, it’s our song!” Rachel turns the volume up and all I can do is smile. We drive away while Eric Clapton’s “Layla” kicks off the rest of our lives.


	10. Phoenix

My parents are at Mom’s funeral.

Well, they’re going to be my “parents” soon, within a month or so.

Up until now, I didn’t think we had enough money for a funeral. I think my new “parents” helped with that, but I don’t know. No one tells the kid what’s going on with this sort of thing.

Everyone’s all dressed in black, which reminds me of Mom. She always wore black. I wonder if she wanted to die. I wouldn’t blame her. There aren’t very many people here… Miss Sylvia, the Sallows, just neighborhood folks. I want to go over to David and Shelby Sallow, my friends from down the street, to distract myself, but I don’t know if I should. I stay put.

My Mom’s parents couldn’t make it today. She was supposed to call them and tell them she was alive but I don’t think she ever did. I think “new mom” told them. Mom and new mom’s brother is here, I think.

My “parents” look over at me a lot. I’m with my oldest foster brother, Andy. We’ve only known each other for a couple of months but he looks out for me, better than most people in our house do. Soon I’ll be leaving, though. I might not see Andy again after I do.

My “parents” are talking to everybody as we all pass by Mom. I wish she could’ve said bye to her parents. But they aren’t here. No one thinks to tell me anything about it. The kid.

Andy has a hand on my shoulder as we walk through with everyone else. I remember for a second that my new mom is my aunt when I see her eyes look like mine. She looks like me when I’m sad. She also looks like Mom, her sister. But I don’t know if I can ever call _her_ Mom.

“Dad” has a real funny name. I really hope it’s a nickname. And he looks like he could be Andy’s age. Like an older brother, but he doesn’t look anything like me. I heard he knew my real dad, though. If I could have it my way, I’d live alone, without any parents to tell me what to do.

But apparently that’s “illegal” or something and I have to have a guardian until I turn eighteen. It’s garbage. At least I have relatives to live with, though, unlike the other foster kids I’m with right now. They call me the luckiest kid of all of us. I’m not sure about that one.

I don’t remember anything they say to me. I can only see my “parents’” sad eyes, that same look everyone’s been giving me for as long as I can remember.

I don’t want to be felt sorry for anymore.

* * *

I watch Rachel sign the papers on the kitchen table of our new apartment. We decided to move to one with more space, since it would be the three of us from now on. It was either a new apartment for all of us or a new car to replace one of the old ones, and the choice was pretty obvious.

Paris gave us control of her money and house right before we died; we sold the house to be able to better provide for Austin. It wasn’t much but it will definitely help. Sylvia also offered to help with anything I needed; it’s been years since I’ve seen her and I can’t remember her ever caring this much about anyone. I don’t want to burden her but we’re in touch. Darry and his fiancée Elizabeth are willing to help us, too, but I don’t want to take away from their wedding funds.

Across the table from us are Mrs. Jennings, Austin’s social worker, and Austin himself. I can’t place how I’m feeling. Taking over guardianship of some kid at 21 just feels off. Is this how Darry felt? At least my oldest brother had helped take care of me and Soda our whole lives. I have no idea where to start with this kid, and even though Rachel’s his relative, she’s as lost as I am.

We had to all spend some time together before the adoption was approved, and Austin’s quieter than even I was at his age. Growing up without siblings might’ve had something to do with it, but I don’t know. Trauma makes you quieter, too.

Rachel slides the documents over to me with a slight smile. I’ve already read through them, so it only takes me a few seconds to sign each page. I give them to Mrs. Jennings and she puts them away into a manila folder. I flash back to all the social worker visits from when I was a kid, and come to think of it, mine only ended about three years ago. Thinking too hard is going to make me have second thoughts…

“Well, I’ll be back at the end of August to see how you’re doing,” the social worker says as she gets ready to head out, “Especially that Austin here is going to a new school in the Fall! Isn’t that exciting?” She looks over at Austin who doesn’t respond.

“Thank you so much,” I hear Rachel say, despite being lost in thought.

Austin River Henning is officially my son.

* * *

The apartment isn’t much smaller than the house Mom and I lived in. All my old furniture is in my new room, but everything is so quiet. I never really got along with the kids at my old school, but starting at a new place this Fall is just… scary.

Tonight, the first night here, I go right to bed. It finally hits me that Mom is gone forever. After months of keeping it to myself, I cry.


End file.
